


The End of All Things

by remanth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, angels falling, human!Cas, pre-destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angels have fallen and Sam is gravely hurt. What happens next might decide the fate of Heaven, Hell, and Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Loose

‘This must be what it feels like,’ Metatron thought to himself as he looked around the white room. ‘Breaking loose and finally achieving your goal.’ Naomi was still slumped over her desk, blood pooling around her head from the wound Metatron had given her. She wasn’t dead, not yet, but she was completely incapacitated. You don’t work as the scribe of God and not pick up a few things about angels and how they work.

With a giddy laugh, Metatron walked out of Naomi’s office and into the rest of Heaven. It had been a very long time since he’d been here and he missed the garden. As Metatron walked, he saw the devastation and damage that had been caused by Castiel and other angels. Fighting was one of their talents but the last time that talent had been turned on each other was during Lucifer’s fall. The pieces of Heaven that were the least damaged were already starting to heal themselves and the rest waited their turn. It would take a long time to erase the signs of war.

Finally reaching the garden, Metatron ambled through it slowly. It looked a bit like a glade in a forest, with millions of flowers, trees, and bushes. He’d come home. This was one place that had been kept pristine, due to Joshua’s efforts. Though even that angel had been cast out, his wings burnt off. Metatron was the only one here, other than the human souls who had been given the privilege of Heaven.

While he walked and remembered, Metatron completely missed the eyes watching him. They widened as they recognized the barest shadow of wings coming from the man’s back. Here was the only angel left in Heaven and the eyes then narrowed in suspicion. After watching the others be cast out in fear and confusion, the serenity in this one could only mean that he had caused it all. Moving silently, the eyes withdrew and hurried home to a bar that no longer existed down on Earth. There were plans to be made and vengeance to take. While most of the angels had been dicks of the highest order, some were not. And they had become friends.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Dean watched the sadly beautiful display above him and Sam, worry and fear making him tremble. Sam was coughing and weak; stopping the trial was hurting him, possibly killing him, and the one person who might be able to help wasn’t answering his call. But that was understandable, really, since Castiel had gone to close Heaven. And he was staying there, as their conversation at the bar had highlighted painfully for Dean. He’d hoped, even while _knowing_ that hope was useless, that just this once Castiel would choose to stay.

“Dean,” Sam choked, bleary eyes looking up at the sky. He could only see flashes of light, nothing concrete, and the panicked breathing of Dean was terrifying him. “What’s going on?”

“Angels,” Dean replied sadly, voice low with resignation and sorrow. “They’re falling.” Dean continued to watch, feeling as if he should stand witness to this. The rest of the world would probably assume it was a meteor shower, though how the newly human angels would be taken he had no idea. The lights showed no sign of stopping and a hacking cough from Sam convinced Dean to stop watching and take care of him. He helped Sam into the Impala then went back for Crowley. The demon was mostly out of it so he didn’t fight Dean. The elder Winchester had no idea how Crowley was going to act now so kept the sigil-inscribed cuffs on him.

While the angels continued to fall, lighting the sky, Dean drove back to Kansas. It was the best place to be now and he was sure the Men of Letters would have some way of dealing with this. He hoped. The dungeon would contain Crowley as well if the demon was still more demon than human. Finally reaching the bunker, Dean was immensely gratified to see Kevin still inside. The prophet helped him carry Sam to his bedroom and then Crowley down to the dungeon.

“What’s going on?” Kevin asked when Dean took a moment to breath. “The machines here went crazy.”

“I knew it,” Dean murmured to himself before turning to Kevin. “The angels. Cas did something and they’re all falling. Or Metatron did it.”

Kevin nodded and looked at his bags, still packed and sitting at the door. But something Castiel had told him made him stay. He was a prophet, would be until he died and another prophet was called. As much as he wanted out, he was in this life for the rest of his life. And where would he go, after all? His old life was pretty much gone, his mother was dead according to Crowley, and he had no purpose out there. With a sigh, he sat down at one of the tables and gestured to the machines.

“So, apparently the Men of Letters tracked meteors or supernatural energy or something,” Kevin began when Dean sat down. “Little tracking dots appeared on this screen.”

Dean nodded as he listened, eyes trained where Kevin was pointing. The screen still had uncountable dots on it and Dean wondered exactly how many angels were left. He was happy that Kevin was staying; he could use the backup with Sam out of commission. Now if only Cas were here. Dean knew he’d feel safer with the angel around, as he’d always done. But he’d offered so many times and Cas had flown away every time. Maybe it really was better this way. He didn’t think he could handle it if Cas left again.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Tears glimmered in subdued blue eyes, falling down dirt-streaked cheeks of a face turned to the heavens. They were eyes that had seen Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Earth, and everything in between. And now, they were human. Human and full of pain as their brothers and sisters fell to Earth in fire and torment. Falling wasn’t easy when it was one’s choice and it could only be worse when it wasn’t.

Castiel winced as he heard muffled thumps as bodies crashed. He could only hope his siblings survived their falls. He was lucky, in a way. As the angel whose grace Metatron had stolen, Castiel had had a gentler landing on Earth when Metatron sent him here. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, since most forests looked alike in the darkness. Castiel knew he had to get moving, had to find somewhere to hide, but the beauty and horror above him kept him rooted to the spot.

He stood all night as more and more streaks filled the sky. This was all his fault, he’d made a mistake again. Trusting the wrong person seemed to be the only thing Castiel could do and the thought burned through him. Yet again, he had caused destruction while trying to do the right thing, been used because he couldn’t see past others’ ability to lie. The last angel fell just as the sun was cresting the horizon, the streak of their grace brighter than the dawn. Castiel wiped away the tears that had fallen, determined to find some way to fix this. And there was one person he could trust, one person who would never lead him to more damage. He had to find Dean.

 

Castiel worked his way out of the forest and to a road. He flagged down the first vehicle that came his way, a semi truck hauling cars. Castiel recognized a few Impalas and took that as a good sign. The passenger door opened as he walked to it and he looked up at the smiling woman in the driver’s seat.

“Hello sweetie,” the woman said, waving at Castiel. “You need a ride?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied simply, climbing into the truck. “Kansas. I need to go to Kansas.”


	2. Lost

_Now Leaving_

_Pontiac, Illinois_

_Safe Travels and Come Back Soon!_

When the sign rolled past the truck, Castiel just shook his head and sighed. Of course he would have been sent here. This town is probably the only place he had a real connection to, mostly because of Jimmy. Castiel wondered absently if Metatron meant him to marry Amelia and join Jimmy’s family. That wasn’t happening. There was no way Castiel was going to intrude into her life wearing the body of her husband.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” the driver, who had introduced herself as Sarah, asked. “Were you lost out here or something?”

“Or something,” Castiel replied quietly, still staring out his window. “I travelled a bit farther than I originally thought.”

“Well, that’s not a problem,” Sarah said, turning from the road to flash a smile at Castiel. “We should be in Kansas in about three hours. Another three hours after that, I’ll be in Kansas City, where these cars are going. Where do you want to stop?”

Castiel consulted the mental map he’d created as he’d flown around as an angel. He’d fixed the location of the bunker in his mind, knowing the Winchesters now called it home. Lebanon was another four and a half hours from Kansas City but he was sure he could find another helpful Samaritan.

“Kansas City will be fine,” he finally replied, turning to meet Sarah’s eyes. “Where I have to go is not much farther than that.”

“Sounds good, then Castiel,” Sarah told him, reaching out to turn the radio on. She’d asked where Castiel was from but the former angel hadn’t been able to answer. Further attempts at conversation, focussing on what she called his archaic way of speaking, his appearance, and where he was going, all failed due to Castiel’s silence. He was still trying to understand what had happened to him. Being human was frighteningly new, notwithstanding the time his grace had been nearly completely depleted. There was no coming back from this. Castiel believed himself human forever.

The entire six hour trip was made with little talking. Sarah sang along with the radio, spoke with other drivers, or hummed quietly. Once they crossed the border into Kansas, she stopped at a rest area with a small selection of fast food places. Castiel broke his silence long enough to say that he wanted a cheeseburger. His stomach was rumbling, something he understood to be hunger. Before, the knowledge was only theoretical. Now, Castiel felt it viscerally and he was not enjoying the sensation. Experiencing humanity was uncomfortable and Castiel wished only to get back to people he could trust. To Dean.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Once the machine finally stopped registering fallen angels, Dean sat back and rubbed a hand over his face. According to his watch, it was just after dawn. Kevin had fallen asleep a few hours ago, head pillowed on his arms. Throughout the night, Dean had checked on Sam several times. There was no change in the younger Winchester; he slept as if in a coma.

 

Crowley was being exceptionally well-behaved as well, nodding at Dean the few times he’d checked on the demon. He’d made no obvious moves to free himself, not even testing the chains when Dean had brought him down to the dungeon. The only time he’d said anything was to ask for a chair to be brought down since the chains didn’t quite reach the floor comfortably. A bit flabbergasted at the tone and question, Dean had brought down one of the chairs after carefully making sure there was nothing about it Crowley could use to escape. The nearly human demon was actually creeping him out quite a bit.

Standing and stretching, Dean yawned widely. Since nothing else seemed about to end or fall, it was about time to get some sleep. He nudged Kevin, the prophet’s head whipping up and wide eyes staring at Dean.

“You should go get some shut-eye,” Dean advised, nodding towards the hall with the bedrooms. “It’s going to be a complicated next few days.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kevin said, nodding and stumbling towards the room he’d claimed as his own. It was still very spartan, looking almost exactly as he’d found it. Two additions showed someone actually used the room: a picture of Kevin with his mother and a picture of Kevin with his ex-girlfriend Channing. Flopping down on the bed, Kevin let his eyes drift shut, the remnants of his old life the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him.

Dean checked in on Sam one last time before he slept. Sam was still pale, eyes sunken and the skin around them bruised. He looked like he was on Death’s doorstep, to be honest, and Dean had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d spent the night praying, though it was probably useless. Even though no one had appeared, a small piece of Dean had hoped Cas would answer. He was out of his depth, so completely lost. Cas would have been support if nothing else.

 

After watching Sam breathe for several minutes, the action forcibly reminding Dean of times Sam was sick when he was little, Dean finally headed to his own room. He was fairly certain Sam would survive for at least a few hours. Maybe while he was sleeping, Dean would come up with some ideas. If nothing else, maybe Kevin could read through the demon tablet and see if there was some sort of failsafe or something if the trials weren’t completed. Dean only hoped that whatever changes the trials had wrought on Sam hadn’t changed his brother beyond recognition. The only one who might know what was going on was Metatron and Dean wasn’t going to be asking that dick.

Crawling into his bed, Dean stared at the picture of him and his mother leaning against his lamp. He felt tears prickle at his eyes. He’d had one job throughout his whole life: be her for Sammy. Watch out for his little brother and keep him safe. Now, after everything he’d gone through and everything they’d both done, he had failed because of one dick angel. Dean fell asleep slowly, guilt and shame twisting in his gut. Faint prayers still echoed through his mind though Dean couldn’t tell if it was his mother or Cas he was asking forgiveness and help from.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Beeping and the clacking of keys filled an empty room. A cold beer sat next to the computer on a bar while REO Speedwagon played quietly from an old jukebox. There was a pool table in an alcove near the bar, the balls racked up in preparation for a game no one was likely to play. Ash sat staring in shock at his laptop; the lack of Enochian from the angels was disturbing. Now, only the whispers from human souls were tracked and the quiet words from one angel.

“This is just weird,” Ash muttered to himself. He hadn’t quite believed all the angels were gone, hadn’t wanted to believe it. But the proof was right in front of him. “I think I need Pam on this one.”

He got up, downed the beer and crumpled the can, tossing it into the trash as he walked through a doorway painted with a red sigil. A few minutes later, Ash came back with Pamela Barnes following. She was still wearing her favorite Ramones shirt and black jeans. Annoyance filled her eyes; the band had just started her favorite song. But the look on Ash’s face had convinced her to follow the man back to his heaven, The Roadhouse.

“This better be good,” she grumbled, pulling out a beer for herself and taking a deep drink.

“The angels are gone,” Ash explained without preamble, gesturing to his laptop. Pam’s eyes widened, her psychic senses picking out the truth in his words as she saw the lack of Enochian. She’d sensed a sudden lack of voices around but had attributed it to another war between the angels.

“What happened?” Pam asked, sitting down. She had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation but then another thought crossed her mind. “You know what? On second thought, I think we’re gonna need some help. Can you get me into some heavens?”

“Sure, I can get anywhere,” Ash replied confidently, though questions danced in his eyes. “Why?”

“You’ll see, computer boy,” Pam replied, smirking at Ash. She told him the names, knowing he’d need those at least to find their respective heavens. Ash whistled appreciatively, nodding.

“Calling out the big guns, huh?” he asked, typing quickly on his computer. “One question though. Who’s Sarah Blake and why do we need her?”


	3. My Reason to Live

An indeterminate amount of time later, because time really doesn’t matter in Heaven, a small group sat drinking beers around a table. Ash’s laptop sat in the center of the table, the normal noises completely silenced. That silence was actually unnerving, considering how many angels used to be in Heaven and talking. Pam looked around at her little group, satisfaction writ across her face. If these people couldn’t do anything to help fix this, no one could.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?” Bobby grumbled, looking around the replica of the Roadhouse curiously. “I was rather enjoying my Heaven, you know.”

“And what’s with the laptop?” Jo cut in before anyone could answer. She had her legs slung over another chair, leaning back and looking completely comfortable. Her mother, Ellen, looked just as comfortable though tears glimmered in her eyes at seeing the Roadhouse again. Though, everyone knew better than to mention it.

“The angels are gone,” Ash replied, pointing at his laptop. “I programmed this to listen in on Angel Radio. Someone did something, probably a spell, that kicked all the angels out of Heaven. Every once in a while, my laptop picks up a single voice but it disappears so quickly that I can’t make out what it’s saying. My money is on that dude for all that’s happened.”

“I gathered you all together because I think you can help fix this,” Pam said, grinning and winking at Bobby. It was nice to have everyone together again though sad that they were all dead. “The boys are going to need help.”

“Why am I here?” Sarah cut in, looking around in bewilderment. “I don’t even know any of you.”

“But I know you,” Pam told her, shifting her grin to Sarah. “You are brave, determined, and have a connection to Sam. When you had the chance to run from this life, you stuck it out to help someone you cared about. Even though they died in the end. And, as the most recently deceased, you have the strongest connection to Earth.”

“Count me in,” Bobby stated, nodding his head emphatically. “Those idjits were one of my reasons to live, when I was still alive. And they saved my ass a few times too.”

“You have us,” Ellen said as Jo nodded. Ellen crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the computer. She was familiar with Ash’s genius and how he worked but, even so, the images on the thing were all gibberish to her. “What do we need to do?”

“There’s still someone up here who might be able to help us,” Ash explained, chugging a beer when he paused for breath. “She’s incapacitated at the moment, probably by the dick with wings I saw in the garden. But she tried to put Heaven back together after all the fighting and smiting and stuff.”

“That means she’s an angel too,” Bobby said suspiciously, glaring at Ash. “How do you know she can be trusted to help us? As far as I’ve seen, only Balthazar and Cas actually wanted to help us.”

“I don’t, really,” Ash admitted, shrugging. “But she was trying to do the best she could. I monitored her whenever I could. She thought that little office of hers was completely safe but it really wasn’t. Not from Doctor Bad-Ass.”

“You said she’s incapacitated,” Jo said slowly, tapping a finger on her knee. “What happened to her?”

“I didn’t really see what happened,” Ash replied. “All I know is that she was talking with another angel before she fell silent. There’s usually a lot of static if an angel dies but I didn’t get that when she went silent. Whatever happened to her had to be pretty bad though.”

“That’s where I come in,” Pam interjected. “I think I can help figure out what’s wrong with her using my abilities. As long as she doesn’t burn out my eyes, of course.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel sighed as he saw the lights of Kansas City come into view. The sun shone down on the buildings painting them golden with afternoon light. Sarah had finally stopped trying to engage him in conversation and just concentrated on driving. He still didn’t like riding in vehicles all that much but it was his only option right now. And this trip had introduced him to something completely new: motion sickness. Castiel had thrown up the cheeseburgers he’d eaten about an hour after their stop.

“I can drop you at a truck stop before I go deliver these cars,” Sarah said, breaking the silence. She glanced over at Castiel and gave him a sympathetic smile. Her daughter got motion sickness quite often. “You should be able to get something to eat and find another ride.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied quietly, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking away. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal with the emotions twisting and churning in his mind. Before, he’d had a buffer since the body he was wearing wasn’t actually his. Now, it was and Castiel felt like he was drowning. He really didn’t like embarrassment.

When they got to the truck stop, Sarah stopped outside the restaurant long enough for Castiel to get out. She waved cheerily at him, beckoning for him to stop for a minute. The man seemed so innocent and lost, she just wanted to give him some good advice.

“All right, here’s twenty bucks,” she said, handing over the bill. “I don’t know what happened to you but you need to find some friends or family, sweetie. Someone to take care of you until you get back on your feet. Don’t take rides from anyone who wants something extra from you, there are some sleazeballs driving. Be careful and trust your instincts. Good luck, sweetie.”

Castiel nodded, taking the bill and tucking it into a pocket. He’d lost Jimmy’s wallet long ago. Closing the door, Castiel watched as the semi drove off. Saying a quiet prayer for Sarah’s safety, though he wasn’t even sure God was listening, Castiel headed into the restaurant. The hostess seated him and Castiel ordered a cheeseburger from the waitress when she came over.

While waiting for his food, Castiel looked around the room and tried to figure out who might be a good choice to drive him the rest of the way to Lebanon. He didn’t want to walk the whole way there, though knew that was a likely option. Finally, the mouthwatering smell of ground beef smothered in ketchup, pickles, and grease wafted towards him. The plate was set down and Castiel ate quickly. The fries were just as good as the cheeseburger and he dipped them in ketchup as he'd seen Dean do a few times.

“Hey cutie,” a voice murmured. Castiel looked up as a man slid into the booth across from him and gave him a grin. He was thin and wiry with dark brown hair and brown eyes. “You look lonely.”

“I am not lonely,” Castiel replied, head tilting to the side as he studied the man. “What do you want?”

“Well, I was hoping for your number,” the man laughed, holding out a hand for Castiel to shake. Which he did not. “But I’ll settle for your name. Mine’s Will.”

“Castiel,” Castiel replied shortly, already disliking the man. There were really only two people he felt even remotely comfortable around when it came to what humans called flirting. One was dead and one was three hours away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel,” Will said, pulling his hand away after a few seconds. He settled his elbows on the table and leaned on them, studying Castiel intently. “What brings you to Kansas City?”

“I’m trying to get to Lebanon,” Castiel said, finishing his last fry. “I have... family there.”

“I’m heading that way myself,” Will smiled, leaning back and sprawling over the bench. He reached out slowly with one foot and pressed it against Castiel’s as his smile grew wider. “I can give you a ride. Give myself more time to get your number.”

Castiel delayed his answer by handing the waitress the twenty dollar bill when she came back. He waited until he had the change, laying a couple dollars on the table as he thought. Will didn’t really come off as dangerous, just a little persistent. And if he could use the man’s desire for his phone number to get to Dean, Castiel would do exactly that.

“Very well,” Castiel finally murmured, standing up from the booth. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a chance to... get my number.”

Will grinned and stood up, leading Castiel out to his car. He was on a road trip and the car was stocked with food and drinks, a sleeping bag, and enough music to last a month. Castiel slid into the passenger side, sitting stiffly as Will got in. When the car started, Castiel stared in surprise at the radio as Led Zeppelin blared from it.

“Something wrong with the music?” Will asked curiously, noting Castiel’s wide eyes and slack mouth. And if his eyes lingered a little too long on those eminently kissable lips, who could blame him?

“Nothing wrong, no,” Castiel replied slowly. “Someone I know loves this music. It’s... a surprise to hear it now.”

“Someone important?” Will asked, pulling the car out onto the highway. He had about four and half hours to persuade his phone number out of the gorgeous man next to him.

“Something like that,” Castiel admitted softly, turning to stare out the window. If he focused on the landscape and not on anything else, he could almost pretend he was flying again. The thought comforted and saddened him at the same time. Will continued to talk throughout the ride, changing the tape a couple times to put in new music. As Black Sabbath and Metallica took the place of Led Zeppelin, Castiel let himself believe he was riding with Dean in the Impala. Four and a half hours was going to pass so slowly but Castiel knew it was worth it.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Sometime in the late afternoon, Dean woke up. He felt himself rising to consciousness slowly, as he normally did unless he was woken by someone else. It was something he’d never been able to train himself out of so he’d set alarms for earlier than he’d needed to when hunting with his father. He had a few moments of peace before the knowledge of the past few days flooded back into his mind. Groaning, Dean levered himself off the bed and headed to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Walking into the room, following the delicious smells his nose detected, Dean was surprised to find Kevin cooking. The prophet had made a stir fry with steak and vegetables while rice sat steaming on the table in the middle of the room. Dean waved, using his other hand to stifle a yawn.

“Afternoon,” Kevin said, nodding at the plates when Dean sniffed appreciatively. “Food’s done, if you’re hungry. I checked on Sam while you were sleeping. Guy’s out like a light but he doesn't look like death warmed over anymore. Checked on Crowley too but he’s sitting quietly down in the dungeon.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, filling his plate with rice and stir fry. Granted, it wasn’t a burger or pie but the food smelled delicious. He sat down to start eating, mind turning over all the problems they had while he did so. Kevin joined him, chewing meditatively for a while before breaking the silence.

“So I’ve been watching the news and stuff,” Kevin explained between bites. “Apparently, they’re calling the angels falling a giant and unprecedented meteor shower. Some people that have been reported missing have been found wandering on the streets. They have no memory of their previous lives and act really confused and childlike. I’m assuming these are newly human angels. We should probably do something about them.”

“Sure, maybe,” Dean said, swallowing his chicken and shrugging. “What are we gonna do? Turn the batcave into an ex-angel orphanage? There’s not enough room.”

The sarcasm in his voice silenced Kevin and they continued to eat. Dean was struggling with one question, the words burning just behind his lips. There was one person that was still unaccounted for, though Dean assumed Castiel was in Heaven. After all, that’s where he was going with the bow they’d gotten from the Cupid.

“Any news about Cas?” Dean asked, the words slipping out before he could control them. Kevin gave him a sympathetic look and shook his head. No one matching Castiel’s description had been picked up. Of course, he may not have been. Castiel had more experience passing as human than most of the other angels.

“He could be trying to get here,” Kevin offered, trying to give Dean something to look forward to. “We just got to wait and see what’s going to happen.”

Dean nodded and finished up his food. Dropping the dishes in the sink, deciding to wash them later, he headed to Sam’s room to check on him. Sam was still sound asleep in the same position Dean had dropped him on the bed in. The room was decorated with books and pictures of places that Sam wanted to visit though probably never would. It made Dean feel angry at their father, something he’d thought he’d gotten over. They hadn’t asked for this life and Dean wished yet again that Sam had had another choice.

After making sure Sam was breathing all right, and he did look better, Dean’s next stop was the dungeon. Crowley was snoring lightly with his chin resting on his chest. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think he had some rich guy locked up down here. He wondered exactly what Crowley was now, since the curing ritual hadn’t been completed. The demon hadn’t fought over bringing him here so maybe he was partly human now?

Sighing, Dean wandered back upstairs and just stood in the room he’d taken to thinking as their living room. The tables were perfect for research, it was just off the kitchen, had some good tunes, and whiskey. He didn’t have long to contemplate as a loud knock sounded on the door. Dean immediately pulled out the hunting knife he carried even here and moved towards the door. No one really knew where the bunker was, so who could _possibly_ be knocking?

Dean opened the door quickly, knife raised threateningly to whomever stood on the step. But the knife slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers as Dean confronted the person before him. Familiar bright blue eyes lightened in a smile as they met his own green ones. The eyes that had convinced him to live along with Sammy’s familiar hazel ones.

“Hello Dean,” that oh-so-familiar gravelly voice said.


	4. Bandana

There wasn’t a lot of argument about helping the angel Ash was referring to after Pam stated she’d help fix her. By now, nearly everyone knew what had happened the first time the psychic had come into contact with one and if she was willing to help, that pretty much decided it for everyone. Ash was busy tucking a few things into his pockets before checking his laptop again. There were whispers from the dude he’d seen earlier but they were so faint, Ash couldn’t make them out. He double-checked the location of the white room and squared his shoulders.

“Everyone ready?” he asked, looking up at his small group. Pam gave him a grin while all the others nodded. Walking to the front door, Ash used the chalk he always carried now to draw a couple sigils on it. That would let him walk straight into the white room and hopefully avoid the dick with wings currently ambling around the garden. Opening the door, Ash shielded his eyes from the nearly blinding light that flooded into the Roadhouse.

“Sheesh, what’s she got in there, a baby sun?” Jo asked sarcastically, squinting into the room. Ash shrugged and led the way, making sure to close the door behind Sarah, who was the last one out. She had a look of complete amazement, disbelief, and a little fear on her face.

“You all right?” Ash asked her quietly.

“I think so,” Sarah replied, giving him a shaky smile. “I mean, I brushed the edges of this life a couple times but this? This is completely new.”

“You’re doing fine,” Ash reassured her, closing the door and pocketing the chalk. He followed Ellen and Jo, who had taken the lead with Bobby and Pam talking quietly behind them. They walked through a set of glass doors and had to stop. The sight that met them was more than a little horrifying: a woman with dark brown hair sitting behind a desk, head slumped onto the top of it with some sort of metal thing penetrating the back of her head. The blood that had pooled out was dripping on the floor, each drip making Sarah flinch.

“How is she not dead?” Sarah asked softly, more breath than voice. “She looks dead.”

“She’s an angel,” Pam replied dismissively, walking around to the back of the desk and studying the metal implement. “It takes more than this to kill an angel. And there’s no scorch marks of her wings. I remember walking through the field after Castiel had gone on his killing rampage. Angels leave scorched wing marks when they die, even in Heaven.”

She continued to stare at the implement in the angel’s head, eyes going a little unfocused as she stretched out her psychic awareness. There was life still in the angel and a name floated up: Naomi. It didn’t sound very angelic to Pam, but hey, it took all kinds. Pulling back, Pam nodded at Ash.

“I’m going to need your help for this,” she explained, stepping up close behind Naomi. “Put your hands on her head and hold it still. I need to pull the drill out of her head and she can’t move. Then you need to staunch the bleeding so we can get her back to the Roadhouse. I need a safe place and quiet for the next part.”

Ash nodded, bracing himself against the desk as he laid his hands on Naomi’s head. Pam took a deep breath and grabbed the drill, pulling it out in one long, slow movement. She dropped it on the desk as if hot, unconsciously rubbing her hand on her jeans. Ash hurriedly pulled a couple bandanas out of his pocket, wrapping them around Naomi’s head and tying them in place. And it didn’t really matter that the bandanas pretty much covered her face because Naomi wasn’t in a position to see anything or complain anyway.

“All right, we need to get back,” Pam said quietly, hurrying out from behind the desk. “Bobby, are you able to carry her with Ash’s help?”

“Yeah, won’t be a problem,” Bobby replied gruffly. Ash helped Bobby hoist Naomi into a fireman’s carry and the group headed back out the glass doors and to the door they entered from. Ash chalked the sigils for the Roadhouse on the door then opened it. While everyone filed through, Bobby with Naomi first, Ash conscientiously rubbed out the sigils. It wouldn’t do for the dick with wings to find them and know where they went.

Stepping through and closing the door, Ash watched as Pam directed everyone in helping her set up to heal Naomi. Sarah stayed with the unconscious angel, staunching the wound that had started to bleed through the bandanas. Ellen and Jo grabbed water, towels, and the first aid kit they’d kept behind the bar back down on Earth. Bobby just watched, drinking a beer after carrying Naomi and setting her belly down on the pool table.

“This is going to be interesting,” Pam muttered to herself sardonically. She’d never actually tried to heal an angel before, or a human for that matter. Healing really wasn’t part of her skillset. But she’d found what she needed to know and all she needed was patience and determination. Hopefully, Naomi would help do the rest once the healing was started.

“I need everyone to help hold a limb,” Pam directed, gesturing towards Naomi. “I don’t know if she’s going to flail around or anything like that. Better to be safe and hold her down.”

Ash, Ellen, Jo, and Bobby each took a leg or an arm, pressing down firmly so that it stayed anchored to the pool table. Sarah stayed by Naomi’s head, holding it at Pam’s direction. Slowly, she unwrapped the bandanas and had to wince at the damage.

“And here we go,” Pam said, taking a deep breath and placing her palms on either side of the wound. A soft, golden light shone from her hands and onto Naomi. It was going to take a while and Pam steeled herself for the wait.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said again, hoping to get some sort of response from Dean. He shifted uncomfortably on the step, darkness pooling around him. He’d had Will drop him off a couple miles away since he didn’t want the man to know where the bunker was. Castiel had managed to deflect every effort Will made to get his phone number but hadn’t left without Will’s. The guy had just grinned and tucked the piece of paper into one of Castiel’s pockets. Other than that, he’d been fairly nice.

“Cas?” Dean finally whispered, finding his voice. Much as he’d hoped he’d see Castiel again, he never thought he would.

“May I come in?” Castiel asked, nodding at the doorway. The four and a half hours was long and he just wanted to be somewhere he felt safe. And talk with Dean. Castiel had missed Dean a lot and, seeing him now, felt a ball of tension dissolve in his stomach.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” Dean replied, stepping back and letting Castiel walk inside the bunker. He closed the door and rested his forehead against it, wondering if maybe he was seeing things again. But Dean could hear little movements behind him and breathing, telling him Cas was really here. Turning, Dean let a small smile cross his lips at the sight of Cas sitting in one of the chairs, head propped on one hand tiredly.

“It’s good to see you,” Castiel said quietly when Dean didn’t say anything. “How is Sam? Did he complete the trial?”

“No, he didn’t,” Dean explained, a knot of worry tightening his shoulders. “I stopped him in time but he passed out afterwards. I don’t think the trials liked him stopping in the middle. Sam’s in his room and I’ve got Crowley in the dungeon. I didn’t want to just leave him, with what he knows. And he seems... more human. I think the cure worked on him but not all the way. Kevin’s here too; kid has nowhere else to go, I think. What about you? Why knock on the door instead of just appear here?”

“I can’t,” Castiel said, relieved when Dean sat down next to him. At least they could still be civil, with everything between them. And yet, Castiel wished again they could be more. “Metatron took my grace for his spell. I’m human now. It was never a trial, just a spell to expel all the angels from Heaven. All my siblings have fallen and its my fault.”

The last sentence was spoken quietly but with a venom to it that knocked Dean back. He knew the sound of self-hatred and loathing and there it was, right in front of him. The anger he felt at Castiel for going on his own again abated somewhat. He was still angry but he understood. Had even supported the idea of closing Heaven. And Cas was sitting right here, safe and somewhat sound, here in the bunker with him.

“Metatron used you,” Dean pointed out, leaning forward in his chair for emphasis. “You trusted him. We all trusted him. He was the scribe of God and knew what the trials were. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, Cas. This isn’t your fault.”

Castiel just shook his head, looking down. Remorse, guilt, and shame flooded him and Castiel felt tears gathering in his eyes. A warm hand covered his own and Castiel looked up to meet Dean’s green eyes. He saw care and even love there, though he didn’t believe it. Daring, Castiel twisted his wrist to turn his hand up, twining his fingers through Dean’s. They sat there for a long time, just staring at each other and offering comfort.


	5. Judo

Kevin had taken himself to his bedroom after eating the mostly silent meal with Dean. He felt bad for the guy, especially after gaining a greater understanding of his relationship with Castiel from reading Chuck’s books. But they’d all lost someone and Kevin could only spare so much pity and sorrow. He was still mourning his mother and his girlfriend. However, there were things Kevin could do to take his mind off things.Things that required his complete and undivided attention.

Once he’d made the decision to stay in this world, Kevin had decided to learn how to fight. In his few dealings with demons, he’d gotten the upper hand sheerly out of luck and knowledge. If he was ever captured by Crowley or anyone again, Kevin wanted to be able to fight back. He’d looked up various forms of martial arts online and finally decided on Judo. Ever since then, he’d practiced the movements in his bedroom, away from Sam and Dean. It was better here than on Garth’s boat: no rocking to throw him off and he had a little bit more room. Slowly, Kevin had gotten better and more confident.

But, about halfway through the routine he’d set himself tonight, Kevin heard knocking. It was quiet and he almost missed it but Kevin had trained himself to listen to all the little noises. That one was definitely not one the bunker made on its own. Grabbing the water gun with holy water in it, Kevin moved silently back towards the living room area. But it wasn’t until he saw Dean just standing there, not fighting, that he finally relaxed. Whoever it was couldn’t be dangerous if Dean wasn’t doing anything.

Then Kevin’s mouth dropped open when Castiel walked in. He looked haggard, almost like he was about to fall over. His curiosity getting the better of him, Kevin stayed in the hallway and just listened. Chuck was definitely right about the epic stares going on between Castiel and Dean. The description in the books was exactly what was going on here. Then, Kevin’s questions as to whether there was anything else between them were partially answered: Dean rested his hand over Castiel’s to comfort him and the former angel turned his own to take Dean’s hand. When the hunter didn’t pull away, Kevin decided he’d seen enough. They weren’t talking anymore after all.

He headed back to his room just as silently, closing the door with a slight click. Dropping the water gun on his bed, Kevin just shook his head. Who knew that an angel and a human could hook up? Though, from what he’d overheard, Castiel wasn’t an angel anymore so maybe it was all right. Shrugging, Kevin started the routine he’d abandoned again. Chances were, he was going to need to know how to fight and soon.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Metatron had finally satisfied himself by wandering through the garden. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more. And it was so blessedly quiet here, no one to chase him away or capture him for his knowledge. He’d never imagined, when God had first chosen him to be the scribe, how dangerous the position would have become for him. It was calming to be back here and safe.

Plucking a hibiscus to take with him, Metatron left the garden to walk through some of the heavens. He still loved stories and wanted to hear some from the humans who had the privilege of being admitted here. The path he took brought him past Naomi’s office and Metatron didn’t fight the urge to gloat over her yet again. He pushed open the glass doors and froze in shock: Naomi had disappeared.

The blood pool was still there, though it had been disturbed. Two fingers were neatly outlined in the blood, as if someone had rest their hand on the desk and in the blood. The metal drill was resting next to the blood, the tip just touching the edges.

“Now who could have rescued you?” Metatron asked himself, walking slowly around the desk. “You couldn’t have done it on your own.”

Other than the blood, the room was still pristine. There was nothing on the desk that would explain what had happened to Naomi. Metatron finished his walk around the desk, checking underneath it. There was a single red thread on the floor, just underneath the chair Naomi had been sitting in. Metatron picked it up and stared at it. It was incongruous and definitely did not belong.

“And where are you from?” Metatron murmured. He stretched out his senses, reading that the thread came from a bandana and was carried by a human soul. Something about the soul was different than the others Metatron had ever seen; it resonated with knowledge and power. Learning all he could, Metatron put the thread in a pocket and walked out through the glass doors. That was when the rubbed-out chalk on the outer door caught his attention. He could barely read the top sigil, which was one used for travelling.

And suddenly, it made sense though he still didn’t know why or who. A soul had gained the knowledge to travel in Heaven using Enochian. That soul must have found Naomi and taken her. Metatron sighed as he felt the calm and serenity flow away. This meant that he would have to fight after all. No matter what the soul’s intentions, it couldn’t be allowed to continue whatever it was doing. Naomi was the only other angel up here and the only threat to him. Grumbling under his breath, Metatron memorized the lines of the rubbed-away sigils. He couldn’t make out the destination just yet but, now that he knew someone could travel, he would be watching for them.

\------------------------------------------------------

Pam felt the last of her energy wane as there was finally movement in the body below her hands. It was small, more of a shiver than anything, but it was there. The golden light flowing from her palms cut out and Pam collapsed to the floor. She waved off Jo and Ash, who let go of Naomi’s limbs to come help her.

“It’s okay, just exhausted,” Pam explained tiredly, covering her mouth momentarily as she yawned. Naomi’s body continued to twitch and shiver, as if it was resetting itself. Sarah was still holding her head still, the bloody bandanas to either side. The hole in the back of Naomi’s head had mostly healed and visibly continued to do so. It wasn’t until a high-pitched whine filled the Roadhouse that Pam mustered enough strength to stand.

“She’s coming back,” Pam said urgently, pulling at Sarah’s arms to get her to let go. “We need to get out of this room. I don’t think she can control her powers and I don’t want my eyes burned out again.”

Everyone darted into the back room, which actually stood empty here as it was only used for stock back on Earth. The whining increased until everyone was covering their ears and wincing at the sound. It felt like being physically hit, the power of it bowing their shoulders. Finally, the sound stopped and a shuffling was heard. Pam was the first to uncurl herself and head back out the door, stopping when she saw Naomi standing next to the pool table.

“I assume I have you to thank for my deliverance,” Naomi said smoothly, adjusting her suit jacket. As she brushed her hands over the material, all the wrinkles and bloodstains disappeared. “I thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Pam replied, nodding at the angel. She half-turned as footsteps told her the others had come out of the back room. “Ash here was the one who convinced me to get you. Apparently, you have a problem and we might be able to help.”

“Do tell,” Naomi replied, interest in her eyes. She settled onto one of the stools next to the bar, all her attention on Pam. “I fear that I will need all the help I can get.”


	6. Thoughtless

Ash settled down at the end of the bar near his laptop. It was completely silent now, nothing coming from the other angel still up here. He waved a hand at the screen while turning to look at Naomi. She had a look of polite incomprehension as she studied the screen.

“Ok, basically, this is how I track all the angels and stuff,” Ash explained, feeling a sense of deja vu. He’d explained all this once before to another angel, one who had become a friend. Raziel had actually helped him refine and hone his understanding of Enochian. And had willingly kept Ash’s work a secret, bound safely with all the other secrets and mysteries the angel carried. Ambriel had just been fun to hang out with and Ash could never beat her at darts once she learned how to play.

“Really?” Naomi asked dismissively, staring harder at the screen. “It’s not doing anything right now. Exactly how does it work?”

“Its blank because the only other angel up here isn’t speaking,” Ash said. “This tracks what the angels are saying and where they are saying it. I learned Enochian and set the system up. After all, most of the angels up here were dicks intent on setting off the Apocalypse.”

“I remember that,” Naomi replied, a sneer curling her lip. “Everything that went wrong started from Zachariah and Michael pushing for the Apocalypse. So, how can you help me?”

“Well, I can tell you where the dude I saw is, at least when he talks,” Ash shrugged. There were limitations to his system but hey, nothing’s perfect. Before he could say anything else, the straight lines on the screen started fluctuating and a high-pitched, staticy noise erupted from the computer. It only lasted for a few seconds before falling silent again.

“I see,” Naomi nodded. She had caught the words Metatron was saying since her mind moved much faster than the humans’. “He’s in my office. What is Metatron doing there? Gloating? Well, he’ll know something’s wrong now.”

“But he doesn’t know where you are,” Ash pointed out, a look of pride crossing his face. “I scrubbed out the sigils I drew on the door.”

“Metatron was the scribe of God,” Naomi argued, shaking her head. “If you left even any piece of those sigils, he’ll be able to read them. And since your psychic here healed me, I can track him on my own.”

“I’ve got a name,” Pam grumbled, glaring at Naomi. “And I would think I’ve earned a little respect for helping put you back together. We all have names, if you care. I’m Pam, computer boy here is Ash, these two are Ellen and Jo, the slightly confused one here is Sarah, and that’s Bobby over there with a beer. And we’re all you have up here, something you might want to consider.”

“Peace, I did not mean to offend any of you,” Naomi held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s nice to meet you all but I am looking at this realistically. You have knowledge, yes, but you are all still human souls. What can you honestly do?”

There was silence as everyone in the bar contemplated that.Sarah was feeling more and more useless with every second that passed. What _was_ she doing here, really? Just because she had died more recently, didn’t mean she was the only one to have a connection to the Winchesters. Sarah would bet her place in Heaven that any one of these people here were closer to those boys than she was.

“I don’t think I can do anything,” Sarah said, breaking into the conversation for the first time. “This wasn’t my life. I had a husband and a baby. I helped Sam and Dean on one hunt because the haunted painting came from my father’s auction house.”

“I told you, you are our contact down to the boys,” Pam sighed. She could understand where Sarah was coming from but it was frustrating having to repeat herself. “You’ll be useful. Especially for when we coordinate with them to get the angels back up here. There’s only so much we can do, being dead and all.”

“But we _can_ harass this Metatron,” Jo said, a slow grin spreading over her face. This was right up her alley. “We can make sure he doesn’t get any peace and mess up anything he tries to do.”

“And since you’re human souls, you can hide in any of the Heavens,” Naomi added thoughtfully, one finger tapping at her knee. “For many angels, one human soul looks much like another. I wonder if Metatron would even be able to find you once you ran. This sounds promising; I like it. But first, we need to find out exactly what he did and reverse it. For that, we’ll need to get into Heaven’s archives.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Screaming and blood and cold. Bone deep and biting, taking over every inch of his body. There was no escape and there never would be. Then, the bright fire of a knife sliding lovingly over his skin. Warm rush of blood, the only warmth in this forsaken place and welcome. So welcome, if only he could bathe in it. Coat himself in the warmth and burn away the frost in his marrow._

_“I told you, Sammy, didn’t I tell you?” a voices whispered. So close and so seductive, though evil underlay every syllable. “The best torment is making you think you’re free then pulling the rug out from under you. You really think you could have closed Hell?_ You? _Dear me, Sam. You’re an abomination, remember? From the lips of your surrogate father, your brother, even from the holy angels. What will it take for you to believe that? Deep down where it counts, where you pray to be clean and pure.”_

_A new scream ripped through the air, a now-familiar one. An equally familiar laugh followed it, made far more eerie as it was the voice of his father. But the being inside that skin, that wasn’t John. He could hear that voice whispering to the poor soul it was torturing and the words sounded almost loving. They’d been trapped here for so long, twisted bonds had formed between them all._

_“This... this isn’t real,” Sam gasped, the sentence ending on a scream as Lucifer drew the knife through his skin again. He watched in disbelief as the fallen angel then pulled on the slice, dragging skin and muscle up and away from Sam’s body. “I got out, this isn’t real. Cas pulled me out.”_

_“It is real,” Michael interrupted, pausing in his torture of Adam. He was wearing John’s body rather than Adam’s and Sam spared the thought to wonder why. Michael must have seen it on his face and laughed. “Why, Sam, it would be completely thoughtless of me to torture young Adam here while wearing his body. I’m not totally cruel.”_

_“No, this can’t be real,” Sam moaned. He screamed again when Lucifer dug the knife into his abdomen and twisted. Adam had passed out, his breathing quieting a little as his consciousness got a welcome respite. Unfortunately, that merely meant Michael had time to concentrate on Sam._

_“Come now, Sam, don’t frown at me,” Michael murmured, moving to Sam’s side and leaning down so his mouth was next to Sam’s ear. “Think of all the fun we could have. After all, I am the older brother. I taught Lucifer all he knows.”_

_Lucifer gestured toward the knife still buried in Sam’s abdomen and took a step back. Michael smiled, a blinding white grin that was the only color here other than the blood. The archangel took a firm grip on the knife and ripped it out, pulling pieces of an organ with it. Sam watched, eyes blurring, as Michael shook it dismissively and the pieces splatted to the floor. Still wearing the same evil grin, Michael skimmed the knife around the deep wound in Sam’s belly. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archangels flayed every inch of skin off Sam. Michael worked on the front of Sam’s body while Lucifer took over the back. Every second, Sam prayed for unconsciousness. He’d screamed himself hoarse long before and could barely muster the breath to make the occasional whimper. Mercifully, as Michael and Lucifer each held their knives delicately over Sam’s eyes, he felt the darkness of unconsciousness creeping up. Sam grabbed for it with both hands, wishing with every fiber of his being to wake up in reality and not this continuing nightmare._

With a strangled scream, Sam jerked upright in the darkness. He frantically patted at his chest, legs, and arms, reassuring himself that his skin was indeed in place. The screams he’d been hearing faded away along with the bone-searing cold. Taking a deep breath, Sam realized he was sitting on his bed in the bunker. He was drenched in sweat and breathed in heaving gasps but was otherwise unharmed.

Pushing himself to his feet, Sam realized he was actually feeling better than he had in a long time. He still felt horrible but not like he was dying, as he felt during the trial with Crowley. Running his fingers through his hair, Sam reviewed what he remembered before passing out.

Letting go of the trial was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Knowing that his death was the price to close the gates of Hell was acceptable. All his life, Sam had tried to protect the innocents. They should never be exposed to the horror and nightmare he’d had to deal with his entire life. Sam would have sacrificed himself a hundred times over to make sure all the bastards stayed in Hell.

But it didn’t happen. Sam let the trial go because Dean begged him, because he didn’t want to see his younger brother die. Sam wasn’t sure what happened to Crowley but that didn’t matter right now. The last thing he remembered was Dean saying the angels were falling. If that was true, they had a bigger problem than whatever was going on with him because of the trials.

Taking another deep breath, Sam made his way to the door and out. He could hear voices coming from down the hallway and headed towards them. As he got closer, he could clearly distinguish Dean’s voice and Cas’s. A slight smile pulled at Sam’s lips: it was good Cas was here. He would know what to do. Sam stumbled into the living room area, unable to balance himself against the wall. He had a second to notice how Dean and Cas were sitting, their hands clasped tightly together. Dean looked up at the slight noise, surprise on his face as he saw Sam.

“Hey, guys, what’d I miss?” Sam asked, struggling for levity and failing miserably.


	7. Shiver

All Dean and Cas could do for several seconds was stare at Sam. He looked better than he had but still not healthy. Finally, Cas pulled his hand from Dean’s, his fingers trailing along Dean’s palm. Dean shivered then put it out of his mind. Right now, Sam came first. Standing, Dean walked to Sam’s side in time to catch him just as Sam’s legs gave out. They stumbled to a chair, Sam sitting down heavily as if all the strength had left him.

“You’ve missed a lot, Sammy,” Dean said, moving back to his own chair. He wanted to take Cas’s hand again, reassure himself the former angel was still there, but now was not the time. “Cas found us, obviously. He’s human. Metatron took his grace to cast the spell that kicked all the angels out of Heaven.”

“So Metatron couldn’t be trusted,” Sam sighed, running fingers through his hair. “Is there any angel still alive other than Cas we can trust?”

“Well, if there are, they aren’t angels anymore,” Cas said gravely, shaking his head. “I saw hundreds of my brothers and sisters fall and that was just were I was. Metatron sent me to Pontiac, Illinois. I’m sure the entire world witnessed their fall.”

Sam looked away, trying to fit that into his memories from the night of the last trial. Things were hazy, even from before that night. He knew the trials had changed him but it hadn’t mattered. What mattered was closing Hell and he hadn’t even done that. Sam missed Cas’s eyes on him. The former angel bitterly regretted losing his grace and not just because he would have seen how Sam was now. There were so many things he missed, so many things that bit and scratched at him as a human. But there was no mistaking the fact that Sam was still alive and better than the last time Cas had seen him.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” Cas finally asked. “Dean told me letting go of the trial nearly killed you.”

“I feel really fuzzy right now but I don’t feel like death warmed over anymore,” Sam replied with a small chuckle. “I think that change you saw in me was the trials purifying me. Don’t know if I still am, though.”

He was interrupted by a massive yawn and a growling from his stomach. Dean just grinned at him as Sam shook his head. Apparently, his body was not completely recovered. Pushing himself to his feet, Sam walked slowly towards the kitchen, struggling to stay upright. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t as completely better as he thought. Yet there was a delicious smell in the kitchen, faded though it might be. Food first, then more sleep.

When Dean caught his elbow, Sam straightened his shoulders and pulled away gently. He hadn’t even heard his brother move and he really should have. But he had seen how Dean and Cas were sitting and knew they still had some things to work out. Hell, things had been building between them for years now and Sam thought it was high time they did something about it.

“I’m fine, I can make it to the kitchen,” Sam said quietly, glancing back at Cas. “You have your own things to deal with, Dean. Go talk to Cas. You guys have things to work out.”

“Yeah, things,” Dean answered, looking back at Cas before whipping his eyes back to Sam’s. “Wait, what did you see?”

“I saw something that should have happened long before this if you would have just manned up, jerk,” Sam chuckled, stopping to lean against a wall to catch his breath. “Go. I’m fine, Dean.”

“All right, bitch,” Dean said after a few seconds of staring in surprise at Sam. He nodded to his brother then headed back to Cas. Sam waited to make sure Dean wasn’t going to get up again but when Cas’s hand crept back across the table and Dean took it, Sam knew they weren’t going anywhere for a while.

He continued into the kitchen and set about making a bowl of the stir fry Kevin had made earlier. It smelled even better as it was warming in the microwave and Sam ate it quickly when it came out. He kept yawning the entire time and emptied the bowl before he even knew he was done. Dropping it into the sink with the other dishes, Sam stumbled back to his bedroom and faceplanted into the bed. That was about the extent of his strength and he fell back into the darkness of sleep. This time, no nightmares plagued him.

\-------------------------------------------

“I’m glad he’s up and around,” Dean said softly when Sam had disappeared into the kitchen. “I was really worried he wasn’t going to wake up.”

“I am too,” Cas replied, squeezing Dean’s hand gently. The warmth of Dean’s hand was calming and Cas didn’t want to let go. “Though I can’t see now as I could. I can’t tell if he will heal completely from the changes.”

“What else is new?” Dean asked sardonically, a grim smile pulling at his lips. “But we’ll figure it out. We always do, somehow. But what about you? You sure you want to stay here with us?”

“As long as I’m welcome,” Cas shrugged, trying to affect nonchalance. But Dean could feel a slight tremble in the other man’s hand and it tightened convulsively before loosening. “I really have nowhere else to go.”

“You’ll always be welcome, Cas,” Dean replied softly, smiling at Cas. “No matter what. You’re family, remember? We need you.”

_I need you_

It didn’t need to be said, the words floated in the air between them. Dean had meant them when he said them. He wasn’t just trying to snap Cas out of whatever control he was in. He meant them in a way he had never meant them for anyone else. It had worked; Cas had dropped the blade and healed him rather than killed him. Yet now, Dean’s tongue was tied. He couldn’t say the words again, even if they didn’t need to be said. He could only hope Cas understood.

“Thank you,” Cas said, squeezing Dean’s hand again. “It means... more than I can explain to have a place to belong.”

A yawn punctuated the end of his sentence and Dean laughed, the tension dissolving from around them. Dean was tired even after the nap he’d had earlier in the day. It was probably time for everyone to be asleep anyways. They had a lot of work to come. He stood up, pulling on Cas’s hand to make him follow.

“Come on, we got another room you can have,” Dean whispered as he walked down the hallway. He didn’t want to wake either Sam or Kevin. “All the bedrooms are down this hallway, so if you need anything, we’re nearby.”

“All right,” Cas replied guardedly, watching as the door passed them. He wondered which room belonged to whom, as he hadn’t bothered to find out the last time he’d been here. Dean stopped outside one and pushed the door open. A clean and impersonal room met Cas’s eyes as he stepped inside.

“You can decorate however you want later,” Dean said, following. “It was fun, making my room mine. I can help you if you want. Good night, Cas. You know where everything is if you need something in the middle of the night.”

“Good night, Dean,” Cas replied. He reluctantly let go of Dean’s hand and stared around the room as Dean walked out and closed the door. It was quiet here. Cas wasn’t used to so much silence. Shrugging, he laid down on the bed as he’d seen Dean and Sam do. He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position and to quiet his mind. Minutes ticked by and Cas felt exhaustion weighing him down even more yet sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, exasperated, Cas got out of the bed. Perhaps Dean would know a way to help him get to sleep.

Quietly, Cas walked along the hallway opening doors until he found Dean’s room. The hunter was sound asleep in his bed, pillow tucked securely between his arms. Another pillow was bunched up underneath his head and Dean was wrapped in his blanket. Cas watched for a few moments, warmth fluttering through him at the sight. When Cas moved to Dean’s side, Dean woke suddenly, a gun appearing in his hands. Seeing it was Cas, Dean huffed out a relieved breath and put the gun back under his pillow.

“Cas, man, I almost shot you,” Dean muttered, sitting up and scrubbing a hand over his face. “What did you need?”

“I can’t sleep,” Cas replied, just as quietly. “It’s not something I’ve ever done voluntarily. I was wondering if you might know of anything to help me sleep?”

Dean stared at Cas, several emotions flickering over his face. He knew a lot of ways to try and sleep, some more personal than others. He knew what _he_ wanted to do. The more Dean thought about it, the more attractive the idea seemed. With everything that had happened, and what had happened earlier, Dean decided it was time to stop stepping around what he felt. Dean slid over on the small bed, beckoning Cas over. He watched the other’s face carefully, noting when understanding lit Cas’s eyes.

Cas slid into the bed next to Dean, resting on his back with his hands folded on his stomach. He turned his head just enough to look at Dean. This close, Cas could see the green of Dean’s eyes and little flecks of gold. The sight was beautiful and he just stared silently. 

“This might work better if you weren’t so stiff, Cas,” Dean murmured, smiling. “Here, why don’t you try laying on your side?”

Cas turned over, away from Dean though he didn’t want to stop staring at his eyes. He jumped when Dean sidled up behind him and wrapped an arm over his stomach. Warmth rolled over Cas again and he relaxed back against Dean, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He could feel Dean breathing against his back, little puffs of air fluttering over the nape of his neck.

“Sometimes, having someone else in bed helps you relax and sleep,” Dean explained, stopping himself from burying his nose against the back of Cas’s neck. He smelled really good. “It’s comforting.”

“It is,” Cas admitted drowsily, fighting back a yawn. He could feel something letting go in his mind and his eyelids drooped lower. Listening to Dean’s breath was almost hypnotic and, before he knew what he was doing, Cas had surrendered to sleep. Soon, Dean’s even breaths matched Cas’s and they slept.


	8. Pain

Sam woke up again, eyes fuzzy as he stared at the clock on his nightstand. The neon green numbers told him it was the early hours of the morning, a time when most sane people were still sound asleep. Yet, with all the sleep he’d been getting lately, Sam felt wide awake. The lightheaded feeling from earlier was mostly gone and there was really no point lying awake here in bed. That would only give Sam time to think and that was the last thing he wanted. Maybe someone else would be up. Dean might be, he usually only slept for four hours a night. Especially since he got back from Purgatory. Sighing, Sam stood up and decided to change as his clothes were a bit bloodstained and rather dirty. He changed quickly, running his fingers through his hair once he was done. 

Sam let himself out of his room quietly, knowing that Kevin was probably still asleep. The prophet was the only one who had kept to regular hours, most of the time. Dean, and to a lesser extent Sam himself, had lived too long with fear and the unknown to sleep regularly. Making his slow way down the hallway, legs still a bit shaky, Sam looked into the living room before ducking into the kitchen. He was completely alone and decided to warm up some more of the stir fry he’d had earlier. It seemed to be a side effect of the trials, this ravening hunger. At least it was manageable and Sam didn’t feel quite as hungry as he had before. He ate quickly, itching for information though he knew it would be cruel to wake anyone up. Especially if Dean and Cas had worked through their issues. But, if he remembered correctly, there was one person who might be willing to talk that Sam had no qualms waking up in the middle of the night. Crowley.

After dropping his dish in the sink again, and making a mental note to do the dishes later, Sam walked down to what they’d dubbed as their dungeon. Looking inside, Sam could see Crowley sitting on a chair, his eyes flicking over the sigils carved into the chains and handcuffs. Crowley was one of the smartest demons they’d ever come across, and the most resourceful, and was probably trying to figure a way out of the cuffs. Unfortunately, if anyone could manage it, it would be Crowley.

“Feel any different?” Sam asked, walking in and shutting the door firmly behind him. “Or are you full demon again.”

“Moose,” Crowley greeted, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. “Well, since you ask so politely, I feel contaminated. I don’t know how far along your little curing ritual got but I can still feel it. What are you doing here? Come to gloat over the fallen king?”

“No, I’m not here to gloat,” Sam shook his head, settling down against the wall. His legs were shaky, firmly protesting the walking he’d been doing. “I’m here to talk. What do you know about the trials? I know you had Kevin’s research.”

“Why do you think I’m going to share that with you?” Crowley sneered. Sam was watching carefully, though, and saw the slight tremble in his lips and the glitter of fear in his eyes. Crowley wasn’t nearly as confident as he was sounding. “What incentive do I have for that?”

“You forget that I was there during the ritual, Crowley,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I know you feel something now. What was it you said? You just want to be loved and you asked me how to atone for everything you did. Why don’t you start now, start trying to balance all that pain and destruction and suffering, by helping me. Helping us. All hell’s broken loose, Crowley, and we need all the help we can get.”

“Seeing as I’m probably number one on Abaddon’s most wanted list, it may be in my best interest to help,” Crowley mused, affecting a disinterested air. He swept his eyes over the room, studying the sigils carved into the chains yet again. Whoever had made them, and this room, had definitely known what he was doing. It took a lot to impress someone as jaded as Crowley had become but this room impressed. “What are you willing to offer me, Sam? Why should I help you?”

“What, making up for your past not enough for you?” Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. Promising too much was not a good idea and Sam wasn’t sure what the others would consider too much. After all, they had Kevin and the tablet. What could Crowley offer that Kevin couldn’t. “You know what, thinking about it, I don’t think we really need you. We have a prophet and the tablet.”

With a strangled grunt, Sam pushed himself to his feet and nodded at Crowley. There was nothing of respect in the gesture, more of a goodbye you fucked yourself. Crowley’s mouth dropped open in surprise as Sam left, cries following Sam up the stairs. Perhaps Crowley would be useful but he was more of a liability at the moment. There was no telling if he would break through those chains or what he could do even chained up. After all, he’d managed to send a message during the ritual even if Abaddon was the only one who’d answered.

Sam walked slowly back to his room, weaving on his feet and using the wall for support. Though he was wide awake earlier, after all his walking he felt exhausted again. This whole thing was frustrating as hell; Sam hated having to rely on others to take care of him. It was his job to take care and protect innocents. Falling into his bed, Sam yawned and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. There was a curious tingling in his hands though nothing seemed to be wrong with them. Letting it go for now, Sam fell into an uneasy sleep. He rarely slept without nightmares anymore and he wasn't’ looking forward to whatever his subconscious was going to drag up for him this time.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“I did it,” Jo announced triumphantly, leading the way through the door into the Roadhouse. Ash and Sarah were just behind her, grins on their faces. “Never thought I’d find the materials to make a bomb up here in Heaven, but I did. Apparently, there were a few bomb squad guys who rather enjoyed their work. But I blew up Naomi’s office.”

“Did you take the drill with you?” Naomi asked, looking up from Ash’s laptop. She’d learned the system quickly, glancing at Ash and mentioning Raziel’s name when he’d first shown her how to work it. Ash had merely shrugged and grinned. “It is important that I have it. There aren’t many left in existence anymore.”

“I’ve got it,” Sarah said, holding out the still-bloodstained bit of metal. A curl in her lip and a glitter of fear in her eyes told Naomi how little Sarah liked touching the thing. “What do you need it for?”

“It helps me... educate other angels,” Naomi replied delicately while Pam snorted. She knew exactly what it was for after touching it once. The echoes of pain and confusion and loss reverberated in the piece of metal and were impossible for her to miss. “With this, I can make sure that Metatron is no longer a danger.”

“And how are we going to go about that?” Bobby asked gruffly, popping a pretzel into his mouth. He was lounging in one of the chairs near the pool table, keeping an eye on Naomi. He still didn’t trust her. “I mean, Metatron _wrote_ the damn tablets. How do we go up against the knowledge he has?”

“We continue as we have been,” Naomi explained, nodding to Jo. “Surgical strikes to sow as much chaos and confusion as possible. I would prefer to leave the other human souls out of it and free of damage. However, I will not stop if they become an obstacle. Metatron needs to be stopped and Heaven restored.”

“See, this is where we have a problem,” Bobby replied, shaking his head. “You’re all for collateral damage and couldn’t give a damn. But those are _human_ souls you’re talking about. People who lived and died and expected to be safe in their afterlife. We are not going to hurt or kill them.”

“And if we saved one human soul and lost to Metatron?” Naomi asked, rounding on Bobby with eyes blazing. “Would you rather we lose _everything_ to protect your precious human souls? What then?”

“Hey, guys, quit fighting,” Pam broke in as Ellen walked in from the back room. “We’ll find a way and we’ll do it with the least amount of casualties possible. Calm down, Bobby.”

“Well, what did I miss?” Ellen laughed, looking from face to face. “Hey, Jo, looks like your mission went well.”

“It did and the explosion was awesome,” Jo replied, grinning at her mother. “So how about you? Get what you needed?”

“I did indeed,” Ellen replied, setting a small bundle of plants and herbs on the bar. “Everything Pam said we need to contact the boys. Now explain to me why the resident angel isn’t helping with this? Surely you can just flit right on down there and talk to them?”

“I could, yes,” Naomi nodded, taking a deep breath and fixing a patient look on her face. “If I wanted Metatron to be able to follow me. Anything I do that is more than the human souls here can do, he will be able to find me. And if he finds me, he finds you. Believe me, Metatron knows everything there is to know about how angels work. He would be able to pull any information from me he wanted.”

“Fine, fine,” Ellen grumbled, walking behind the bar and pulling out one of the bowls she kept back there. They were used for pretzels, at least they were, but now it would be used for the spell to contact the Winchesters. “Here, do your ritual and get those boys working.”

Naomi took the bowl Ellen held out and mixed the herbs together. The last thing she dropped in was a flower that looked like a red and yellow orchid. An acrid smell wafted up from the bowl as the herbs mixed and Naomi whispered over it. She kept her voice as quiet as possible, hoping Metatron wouldn’t pick it up. But this was the only way and the danger was worth it. Naomi beckoned to Sarah, who sighed and stepped up next to the angel. Sliding the bowl over to Sarah, Naomi used one of the matchbooks littering the bar to light the contents on fire.

“Breathe in the smoke,” Naomi ordered, pressing on Sarah’s shoulder. “It smells nasty but you won’t be hurt by it.”

Sarah nodded and bent over the bowl, breathing heavily as she forced herself to inhale the smoke. It burned her nose and Sarah fought the urge to sneeze. The room blurred around her and a curious dizziness came over her. Sarah closed her eyes tightly and continued to breathe in. But the smell was gone and different sounds washed over her. Gathering all her courage, Sarah opened her eyes and looked around the room she found herself in. It was dim but a soft light flowed in from another room. It had the warm, buttery look of morning sunlight. Wooden tables dominated the center of the room while a gramophone and crystal glasses rested on a table across from her. There were all sorts of artifacts scattered around the room, from a scimitar to what looked like an ancient vase to a weird collection of bones hang from the ceiling. It looked nothing like anything Sarah had ever seen before.

“Sarah?” a familiar voice blurted out from behind her. “How are you here?”

“Sam, it’s good to see you,” Sarah said, turning to smile at the younger Winchester. “We need to talk.”


	9. Weakness

“That we do,” Sam said, shock and happiness in his voice. He’d honestly never expected to see Sarah again, felt a crushing guilt for her death. “Here, sit down.”

Sarah walked around a wooden table and settled into the chair Sam had pulled out for her. The grain of the arms was slightly rough and Sarah ran her fingers over it. She smiled at the feel; it was nice to feel something _real_ again, not generated in Heaven. It was bittersweet, especially when an image of her husband and child popped into her mind. Would she be able to see them? But it was probably best if she didn’t, Sarah reasoned. She was dead and her family needed to move on. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked once he’d sat down across from her. He stopped himself from reaching out to take her hand. There was a good chance that wouldn’t be welcome and it was a good thing too. If he had never gotten involved in Sarah’s life, she’d probably be alive right now. “ _How_ are you here?”

“A spell, worked by an angel,” Sarah replied wryly, shaking her head at the sheer strangeness of it all. Who would have expected becoming a guerilla in Heaven, fighting with one angel against another? “Someone named Naomi. You know her?”

“I’ve heard of her,” Sam replied, narrowing his eyes as he thought. Everything he’d heard from Dean about Naomi painted her as one of the big bads they’d been fighting. What was going on here? “Why is she helping?”

“She wants to put Heaven right again. Some other angel named Metatron cast all the angels out, I guess,” Sarah replied, wrinkling her nose as she worked through the information that had been passed to her quickly. “Used some sort of drill thing to incapacitate Naomi. Pam knew she wasn’t dead and healed her. We’ve been staying at the Roadhouse, trying to stay off Metatron’s radar.”

Sam goggled at her, trying to process everything Sarah was telling him. It was good to hear about Pam again, that she was still safe up in Heaven. Sometimes, even Heaven wasn’t a safe place for the souls there. Especially if an angel with a vendetta decided to use a soul against others. Images of a bleeding Mary Winchester flashed through Sam’s mind before he pushed them away. That’s not how he wanted to remember his mother and he didn’t have to, thanks to other memories he’d seen. Then the significance of Sarah’s last sentence struck Sam.

“The Roadhouse?” he repeated, confused. “Does that mean Ash is on your side too? Who else is helping you up there?”

“Yeah, Ash and Pam are the ones who came and found me in my Heaven. Did you know that every soul gets its own?” Sarah asked, smiling a bit in wonder. Heaven was nothing like what she’d expected. At Sam’s nod, she continued, “Anyway, apparently Ash works out of the Roadhouse. It’s his own Heaven. There’s an Ellen and Jo Harvelle there too. I guess they owned the place when they were down here. And Bobby Singer. I like him, he reminds me a bit of my dad. Irascible but lovable if he cares about you.”

Sam had to fight back tears as Sarah listed all the souls helping her. Nearly everyone who’d been close to him and Dean, who’d helped and died for the Winchesters. Looking down, Sam swallowed and ran his fingers through his hair. No other list of names good hurt this much while sounding so good. Just hearing their names reminded Sam of the good times he’d had with each person and how’d they’d died. Often in front of him. A few, several times. When he was in control of himself again, Sam met Sarah’s eyes and managed a small smile to reassure her. Sarah’s eyes were wide with surprise and worry, her mouth quirking into a confused frown.

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I thought of them,” Sam explained, giving the barest explanation he could get away with. “I’m glad that they’re all safe up there. But what are you guys doing? Why send you down here?”

“They want me to coordinate with you and Dean to deal with Metatron and get the angels back up to Heaven,” Sarah explained, running her fingers over the wood arms of her chair again. It felt glossy, even with the slightly rough grain, and the movement was calming. “Since I was the most recent person to have died with a connection to you. Jo is spearheading the operation to sow chaos for Metatron up in Heaven. Before I came down here, she had just blown up Naomi’s office. They’ve got more planned but I wasn’t really part of it. My job is to be down here.”

Soft footsteps from the hallway interrupted them before Sam could say anything more. He turned to look, scratching absently at one palm. His hands were tingling again, a little stronger than before. It was really strange and almost seemed to have an inverse relationship to his hunger. Kevin waved as he stepped out of the hallway then stopped, mouth hanging open in surprise as he saw Sarah.

“Um, hi?” Kevin said, voice confused. “Who are you? And when did you get here?”

“Do I really need to go through all this again?” Sarah asked, a bit annoyed. “I really don’t know how long this spell is going to last. Look, I’m already fading a little.”

She held up her right hand, the warm glow of the sunlight shining through it. So far, it was just her hands but Sam could see the transparency creep up her wrist. Kevin just stared, creeped out yet strangely accepting. She didn’t appear to be a danger and Sam had been talking with her while he’d been walking down the hallway. It had actually been Sam’s voice that woke Kevin up. When he was ignored in favor of studying the fading, Kevin shrugged and headed into the kitchen. Since he was first up, and not busy, Kevin would be cooking breakfast. That was the rotation that had been worked out when he’d first gotten here. Though usually it was Dean that did the cooking, especially as the guy enjoyed it so much.

“So, new friend?” Sarah asked, lowering her hand when Sam was done looking at it. 

“Yeah, that’s Kevin,” Sam explained, glancing into the kitchen and smiling as his stomach rumbled. Kevin had pulled out pans, eggs, and bacon. “He’s a prophet. We have some tablets, the word of God, you know? He’s the only one who can read them.”

“A prophet?” Sarah laughed, shaking her head. Well, why not? It’s not like her life could get any weirder. Or afterlife, as the case may be. “Tablets are good, I guess. Who else is here? Is Dean here?”

“Dean’s here,” Sam nodded, smiling as he remembered Dean and Cas sitting at one of the tables last night. It was great they were starting to work through some of their issues. Sam had just about reached the point where he was going to shove Dean into Cas or the other way around. All that tension was getting annoying. “Cas, Castiel, is here too. He’s human now, so I understand. Metatron took his grace. That’s all for allies. We’ve also got the king of Hell locked up in our basement. Well, ex-king now, I would think. Tell Naomi I didn’t go through with the final trial. Crowley’s still demon but he’s been partially cured.”

“I’ll tell her,” Sarah promised, gasping when her voice came out echoey and faint. The fading was happening faster now and Sarah felt a lot lighter than she had. She couldn’t feel the chair anymore and the light was warping. It was less buttery and more stark, more like hospital lighting. To cap it all off, the burning acrid scent was back. “I think that’s all the time I have, Sam. I’ll be back when I can. Good luck and try not to die.”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Sam muttered as Sarah disappeared. He sighed sadly and ran his hands through his hair again. It was wonderful to see her and to know that they weren’t alone in this fight. Having an angel with all her powers on their side could only help right now. But the scent of eggs and bacon was calling and Sam was of a mind to let Dean sleep for a while longer. And Cas, if the former angel was managing to sleep. He had a feeling they were going to be very busy in the upcoming weeks.

\------------------------------------------------------

Metatron stared at the still-smoking ruins of what had once been Naomi’s office. What had happened was somewhat obvious though Metatron still had no idea exactly _how_ this had happened. It could have been Naomi’s doing but this seemed more... human. Naomi would have gone after him directly, not destroyed her own space. The souls that lived around this area had felt the reverberations of the explosion and were disturbed. Metatron had travelled among them, learning their stories and calming those who needed it most. There were a few children that had died in a fire who were the most afraid.

“Now what am I going to do about you?” Metatron murmured to himself, turning away from the ruin and heading to the garden. It was his favorite place in all of Heaven, the one place that would always soothe and reassure him. It was here that Metatron could actually _think_ , could reason through anything he needed to. But, as he entered the outskirts of the lush, green place, the faint scent of smoke and curls of gray above the trees caught his attention. Apprehension and fear growing, Metatron rushed to the center of the garden. Off through the trees, he saw a flash of blond hair and a red cape. Definitely humans and though Metatron couldn’t see their faces. They disappeared behind a tree and the sound of a door slamming followed soon after. Metatron ran after them, hoping they didn’t erase the sigils.

“Damn it,” Metatron swore once he reached the door. The sigils were beyond deciphering, though the destination sigil had one line that was clear. It added to the previous sigil and Metatron could see that it was a specific section of Heaven on the far side of the garden. That was a start and would help narrow down the souls causing so much trouble. But first, he needed to save what hadn’t been burned yet.

Heading back to the source of the smoke, Metatron sighed sadly as he saw entire trees and tracts of meadow burning. The garden would repair itself but it wouldn’t be the same. These specific trees and plants would never appear here again. Metatron concentrated and the smoke slowly faded. Tiny green shoots grew up through the ash, new life to replace the old. Smiling at the resourcefulness of his father’s creation, Metatron resolutely made his way back to the door. It would help to go through the same door those souls had. After all, it would put him near where they had escaped to. And if anyone would know their weakness, it would be the souls in the Heavens nearby. It would only take time and then Metatron would erase any discord in this perfect place.


	10. Life

“I still don’t believe you’re an angel,” the soul said, glancing back at the tent that housed the rest of his family. His name was Tommy and his brother and sister, or at least images of them, were here in his Heaven with him. Metatron had studied the soul before approaching and saw the unmistakable traces of magic on it. The poor man had been killed by a curse. “And I don’t appreciate you barging in here and interrupting my afterlife.”

“I am an angel, I really am. How else would I have gotten into your Heaven?” Metatron asked, repressing a sigh. Tommy still looked at him in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Unable to repress another sigh, Metatron stood up straighter and shrugged his shoulders. This was easy here, where he had been created. Heaven responded to the will of angels and Metatron knew more about this place than anyone but God himself. Slowly, snowy white wings spread from his back and extended above his head. Tommy’s face lost its disbelieving expression and turned to shock and awe, his mouth dropping open.

“Oh my god,” Tommy breathed, eyes tracing the wings that were now stretching ten feet across. He dropped to his knees, bowing his head. While he’d had several doubts about God and angels when he’d been alive, Tommy had _wanted_ to believe. He’d devoured stories when he was younger. And here stood the embodiment of those stories. “I’m sorry I doubted you. How can I help?”

“I want you to tell me a story,” Metatron replied, letting the wings fade away. They were nothing like his real wings but they were something Tommy would recognize. And the white would convince the man that Metatron meant no harm. Sometimes, human myths and legends were extremely useful. And he could add to his collection of stories while dealing with the renegade souls. Really, it was a win-win. “I want you to tell me how you lived. And how you died.”

Tommy sat down to start his story, wondering how much the angel wanted. Starting when he turned thirteen didn’t seem to work as Metatron stopped him and directed to start with his earliest memories. After thinking for a few moments, Tommy started speaking. He went through the first house his family lived in, the births of his siblings, his first move to a new house. Tommy laughed as he recalled his bike, the time he’d fallen off and broken his arm and another time he’d fallen and had to get stitches in his chin. The tale of his first love, a girl with brown eyes and black hair in his sixth grade english class made him smile fondly while his first date made him blush with embarrassment. He continued talking, moving through high school and college. Some of that, Tommy kept to himself. There were some things he just wasn’t comfortable telling an angel.

Then came that disastrous camping trip with a couple of his buddies. Reliving that fear, the churning terror and desperate certainty that he was going to die wasn’t easy. And seeing his friends ripped apart and _eaten_ before his very eyes was something Tommy was never going to forget. Metatron was listening impatiently, committing every word to memory. While Tommy had a normal life for a human, this tale was actually something new. Not that Metatron hadn’t heard stories of people being hunted by Wendigos but each person had their own unique spin to it. Yet, still, this wasn’t what had killed the man. Each soul’s death left an imprint, something angels could read if they knew how. And a Wendigo had no part in Tommy’s death.

“I survived that because my sister found me,” Tommy said earnestly, shivering with his arms wrapped around his waist. Those few days had given him nightmares for months. “She had these two guys with her, a Sam and Dean. They helped kill the Wendigo. Used homemade flamethrowers, can you believe it?”

“Yeah, I can believe it,” Metatron muttered, wondering exactly how many innocents those boys had save. While he’d read Chuck Shurley’s books, there were things that most likely hadn’t been included. After all, what author puts _everything_ into the final draft? “Was that the only time you met Sam and Dean?”

“It was,” Tommy nodded, looking up and taking a deep breath. Spooling out his life in words had been tiring and he still wasn’t quite done yet. Of course, there wasn’t a whole lot of time left. Eight years really. “I went home, learned everything I could about Wendigos so that if I had to face one again, I could.”

“Please continue,” Metatron told him, waving a hand at Tommy to continue. It was certainly fascinating how the supernatural could just intersect with someone’s life and leave again. Tommy had been affected but life went on. As evidenced by the next eight years. He continued to go camping though prepared for any attacks. His family grew, his sister found someone she fell in love with and married. His younger brother went to college across the country. And Tommy himself? He started dating a wonderful woman, someone he thought he could spend the rest of his life with. But, one night while they were at a hunting cabin, Tommy felt strange. Noises seemed to be circling the cabin and growling sounded at the door and windows. Tommy himself felt strange, like a blanket was smothering his thoughts. But one thought was crystal clear: Wendigo.

He’d brought his own homemade flamethrower and pulled it out of his bag, telling the woman to hide in the bedroom. Trying to explain about the Wendigo had been pointless; she hadn’t believed him. But nothing crashed through the door, nothing broke in through a window. Instead, Tommy’s heart had seized inside his chest. He’d died, gasping, on the ground. Nothing had made sense until he’d come here and reviewed his final moments. The angel who’d explained that he was in Heaven had told him it was a curse.

“And that’s my tale, I guess,” Tommy said, clearing his throat. He’d learned a few things about his own personal Heaven and concentrated for a minute. A bottle of water appeared in his hand and Tommy took a few grateful sips. “Was there anything else you wanted to know? I think I went through everything.”

“Just one last question,” Metatron said, finally getting to the purpose of his visit here. “Have you ever seen a human with a red cape or a human with wavy blonde hair? I need to find them.”

“No, no one like that,” Tommy replied after thinking hard. “My Heaven’s been pretty much me, my friends, and my family. If I see them, I can let you know.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. If you see them, just send a prayer to me. I am Metatron and I will hear you,” Metatron said, standing up from the chair he’d summoned for himself about a third of the way through Tommy’s story. “Enjoy your Heaven.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, blinking in surprise. Though, if anyone was going to be polite, it would be angels, right? But in that blink, Metatron had disappeared. Shrugging, Tommy went back to the camping trip the angel had interrupted, though he kept an eye out for the two humans Metatron had mentioned.

Metatron travelled from Heaven to Heaven, learning the lives of each inhabitant. It was absolutely brilliant, being home and hearing so many stories he’d never heard before. Yet, each soul had something in common that was puzzling him: each had been saved once, or not been saved, by the Winchesters. Most of them had lived ordinary lives, full of love and disappointment and wonder and triviality. Until something supernatural had chosen them, chosen to make a meal of them or just kill them. It was all so similar, until he came to a Heaven set off by itself. A Heaven that contained _two_ souls.

“Hello?” Metatron called, walking up to a simple house. It was painted a pale blue and had green trees growing in the yard. Suddenly, a little boy ran from around the corner wearing a blue t-shirt with a teddy bear and the line “I Wuv Hugz”.

“Hello,” the boy said, stopping when he saw Metatron. “Who are you? Are you here to see Mommy?”

“Yes I am,” Metatron told the little boy, pasting a smile on his face and crouching down to be on the boy’s level. “Is she in the house?”

“Mommy!” the boy yelled, running full out at the door. “Mommy there’s a man here to see you.”

“Who is it baby?” a woman’s voice called from deeper inside the house. The boy disappeared inside, his voice still echoing as he answered. Metatron started to follow but a woman stepped out before he could make it to the door. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and was wearing a white dress. It suited her well, unlike the suspicion currently in her eyes. She carried the little boy on her hip, one arm slung protectively around him. “Who are you? You’re not part of this memory.”

“My name is Metatron,” Metatron introduced himself, holding out a hand as he’d seen humans do. When the woman made no move to take it, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “I’m an angel of the lord and I’ve been tasked with gathering stories. I would like to hear yours, if you have the time. What’s your name?”

“Mary, Mary Winchester,” the woman replied, setting the little boy down and shooing him back into the house. “You’ve met Dean. This is actually one of the best memories I have of him. I don’t have many. I have even less of my younger son Sam. What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Dean? Sam?” Metatron repeated, elated at the metaphorical gold he’d struck. If this was their mother, surely she knew their weaknesses. And who might be causing such havoc here in Heaven. “I’ve heard of them. Excellent hunters. They work with a brother of mine named Castiel. And I want to hear about your life, your own story.”

Mary studied Metatron for several moments, wondering how much she could trust him. While she’d been raised to believe that angels were all good and kind and trustworthy, personal experience had taught her otherwise. Yet there was no sense of malice or danger to him. Mary beckoned him in, finally making up her mind. After all, what could he do to her that hadn’t already been done. She settled Dean at the table with a sandwich and a glass of milk while she and Metatron sat in chairs at the counter. Dean ate happily while Mary started talking. About halfway through her recital of her life, a man came in. Metatron could only assume that this was the John that Mary had mentioned. He was the second soul in her Heaven. This was rare and Metatron eagerly soaked up the details of their life together.

“And then I was killed by a demon,” Mary said, bringing the tale of her life on Earth to a close. “I know that Dean got Sam out of the house and John followed. I just wish I could have had more time with my family.”

“That ended some of the best years of my life,” John said sadly, hugging Mary tightly. “I had no idea Mary had been raised a hunter when I became one myself. I raised the boys to protect themselves and protect others. They made me so proud but I never told them that. Its something I regret deeply.”

“That is a sad story,” Metatron sympathized, giving them kind looks. “It must be a relief to be here, united with your family again.”

“It’s definitely been quiet,” Mary remarked sardonically, sharing a look with John. “I do enjoy reliving the best memories in my life.”

“I do have just one more question for you,” Metatron continued, lacing his fingers together and sitting back in his chair. “There’s a specific person I’ve been trying to find to hear his story. He wears a red cape sometimes. I’ve heard that he’s often in the company of a girl with blonde wavy hair. Do you know who that might be?”

“That sounds a bit like Ash,” John said suddenly as Mary shook her head. He studied Metatron for several moments but, like Mary, could sense no danger in him. “I would think he would be in his own Heaven if he’s up here. Maybe at the Roadhouse? Ellen mentioned that he’d been living there, helping out the hunters who’d stop in during or after hunts.”

“Thank you, that has been very helpful,” Metatron said politely though he was screaming internally. It was time to find the humans who were destroying his beautiful home and take care of them. After all this time, Metatron was going to allow _nothing_ to ruin this for him. “Enjoy your memories and thank you for your stories.”

Metatron let himself out as Dean started fussing. Mary and John had their hands full with the little boy, especially as the crying of a baby sounded from upstairs. Moving quickly, Metatron made his way through the Heavens, ignoring the possible stories until he found a Heaven that featured this Roadhouse. A nasty grin spread across his face as Metatron felt the soul within. It would appear that Ash, if that’s who this was, was home.


	11. Star

Dean floated back to consciousness slowly, feeling warm and relaxed and safe. He felt... whole was the only word that came to mind. It was something he’d not had since he was four. Dean smiled and basked in the feeling. As he came closer and closer to full wakefulness, he realized there was something wrapped around him. Something warm and breathing. Stiffening for a moment, not remembering bringing anyone into his bed the night before, Dean eased his eyes open. A stubbled face met his eyes, shaggy brown hair messy across the pillow. A few wisps were tickling Dean’s forehead as Cas had moved during the night. They were lying facing each other now, arms and legs tangled together, with Cas’s head just an inch from Dean’s. There was a sense of familiarity about it, a sense of _right_ that Dean didn’t look into too closely. If he chose, he could always think about it later.

“Cas, you awake?” Dean whispered, repressing the urge to press a kiss to the tip of Cas’s nose. While they were in bed together, that was to help Cas sleep. They hadn’t agreed to anything more. Much as Dean would like it, now that he had Cas back. “Come on, sleepyhead, wake up. I hear voices.”

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas replied, voice gravelly with sleep. He smiled at Dean, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Its very strange, being human. I can’t hear anything outside of this room.”

“You get used to it,” Dean told him. He wanted to stretch but that would mean moving, mean that Cas wouldn’t be in his arms anymore. Stretching could wait. “How’d you sleep?”

Cas glanced down his body as he thought, eyes losing focus. Sleep was so new, something he’d wondered about but never really cared to experience. Strange and terrifying images had passed before his eyes in the night but Cas hadn’t been able to wake up. Every time they’d faded away, he’d relaxed but more images always took their place. Now that he was awake, Cas realized that he’d been dreaming. After spending as many years watching humans as he had, Cas knew what nightmares were. And he definitely didn’t like them. But his body felt refreshed, the aches from his trip nearly gone. Cas also felt comfortable and didn’t particularly want to move.

“Well, apparently,” Cas finally replied, meeting Dean’s eyes again. “Though I didn’t enjoy the nightmares. They brought up memories I would rather forget.”

“It’s part of being human, Cas. We all get nightmares sometimes,” Dean explained, lips tugging upward in a smile. “Sometimes, our brains know exactly how to scare the crap out of us. I’m starving, though. How about breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds good,” Cas replied meditatively as his stomach rumbled. Hunger and needing to eat were things he still wasn’t used to yet. But Cas made no move to get up, merely continued looking at Dean. There were ideas running through his mind, things Cas had held himself back from doing for years. After all, just because an angel had fallen for the righteous man didn’t mean the righteous man had fallen too. But maybe now that he was human, Cas could let himself have. And, after all, they were close and comfortable and relaxed with each other right now. When would be a better time? 

“What are you thinking?” Dean murmured, his eyes roaming over Cas’s face. The former angel wore a determined expression, one that hadn’t been there just a few moments before. “Cas, talk to me.”

Cas didn’t answer, too busy gathering all the little threads of his courage. This could backfire so badly. And if it did, he would likely no longer have a home. Taking a deep breath, Cas closed the couple inches between them and laid his lips gently on Dean’s. The kiss was so different from the time he’d kissed Meg. That had been fiery and quick but Cas had done it because he thought he was supposed to. That’s what the pizza man in the movie had done. But now he _wanted_ to kiss Dean, wanted to show everything he’d felt. And Cas had done a little more research on the subject of kisses. After a few seconds, Cas pulled back and studied Dean. The other man had closed his eyes and wore a look of shell-shocked wonder.

“What was that for?” Dean finally asked, opening his eyes and smiling. That smile eased the tangle of worry that had grown in Cas’s chest. That smile meant everything was going to be okay.

“Because I wanted to,” Cas explained, shrugging slightly. He leaned down and kissed Dean again, a soft and fleeting kiss. “Because I enjoy kissing you.”

“Well, I gotta say, I enjoy it too,” Dean laughed, finally letting himself press a kiss to Cas’s nose. “I wasn’t lying before, when I told you I needed you. I really do. I want you to stay, Cas. You can’t leave this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean,” Cas promised, sliding one arm from around Dean’s waist to press against his heart. He’d seen the motion in a commercial and had liked it. “This is home now.”

Dean cupped Cas’s face and pulled him in for another kiss. Breakfast was forgotten, quite willingly by both men. They merely stayed wrapped up in each other and kissing. It was wonderful and human. And now Dean felt himself finally relax completely and believe. A starburst of joy and wonder burned through his chest. With how he felt now clear and spoken, and knowing Cas wouldn’t be leaving again, Dean could believe things were going to get better. That emotion, and love, were what filled his kisses, what he pressed into Cas’s skin. After all, they had some time before the rest of the world intruded.

\------------------------------------------------------

Metatron studied the wooden-sided building as he walked up to the door. There were neon signs in the windows but only one was lit. It shattered the darkness around the Roadhouse with a lurid red light. However, there was an OPEN sign in the window of the door and Metatron let himself in. The bar was empty though music played from a jukebox in the corner. Metatron didn’t recognize the song but had to admit the building itself was all out of love. Laughter from what sounded like outside drew Metatron through the bar and out a door near the back. A woman and a man sat on the hood of an old car looking up at the stars. The woman had long brown hair while the man had short blond hair. She laughed again as the man pointed up at the stars.

“That’s Orion, the hunter,” the man said as Metatron walked up beside the car. “I like to think he watches over us hunters.”

“I thought that was my job,” the woman replied, pulling the man’s arm down and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“It’s your job here, too, Ellen,” the man laughed and pulled her into a kiss. Metatron cleared his throat when it appeared the kiss was going to continue and put on his best smile.

“Hello,” he said, nodding at them. The woman was the soul who inhabited this Heaven and she was staring at him with suspicion. It was something Metatron had come to expect from hunters, as these two must be to go by their conversation. Yet it was annoying having to win each one over time and time again. “My name is Metatron, you have nothing to fear. I am an angel of the lord.”

“Is that so,” the woman said flatly. She looked at the man for another few moments before he disappeared. _That_ was surprising. Most souls didn’t know how to affect their respective Heavens so deeply. “My name’s Ellen and you’re not the first angel I’ve met.”

“You’ve met others of my brethren?” Metatron asked, settling into a chair he summoned. He wasn’t surprised when Ellen showed no surprise. After all, a soul who could control her Heaven as she could wouldn’t be surprised by what an angel could do. “I would love to hear your story.”

“Why not?” Ellen asked, shrugging her shoulders. She held out a hand and a beer appeared. “Got the rest of my afterlife, after all.”

Ellen started her story from her earliest memory, studying Metatron as she spoke. So this was the angel who had turned Heaven on its head and disabled Naomi. He honestly didn’t look like much, more like a bit of a nerd really. This angel seemed so harmless but Ellen knew not to trust that. After all, Castiel had looked harmless too but he’d turned the world on its head by releasing the Leviathans. As she spoke, Ellen’s voice grew hoarse. She wasn’t really used to talking this long but if she could distract Metatron long enough, Naomi might have enough time to send Sarah back with the information Ash had dug out. That information was the key to ending all of this, stopping Metatron’s reign in Heaven.

“And then my daughter started hunting,” Ellen said, smiling wryly at the arguments she and Jo had gotten into before Jo ran off. “Jo was headstrong and loved her father so much. She wanted to be a hunter just like him. Even though he’d been killed by some monster during a hunt. She looked like him, too. Had his eyes and his hair.”

“She sounds like you as well,” Metatron observed. In his years on Earth, Metatron had learned how to evaluate someone and determine their overall personality. And, with the life story Ellen was giving him, his job was so much easier. Perhaps this Jo was the blonde girl he was seeking, especially if the man from earlier was her father. “She had blonde hair then, your daughter?”

“Yes, she did,” Ellen nodded, looking over to where the man had sat next to her. “Bill was happy about it, said she was absolutely beautiful. When she was a toddler, Jo looked like a china doll. Though I suppose you’d like to hear the rest of my story. There’s not much left, really.”

Ellen continued through the seals being broken and the Apocalypse, fighting back tears when she began the story of their final night. There was laughter and family, in the form of the Winchesters, Bobby, and Castiel, before the heartbreak. Their disastrous attempt to kill Lucifer had taken her and her daughter’s life. Ellen still wasn’t sorry for it; they had given everything they could to stop the devil. What she was pissed off about was that her daughter had died. Jo had such a long life ahead of her and Ellen had done everything in her power to keep her safe.

“So, that’s my story,” Ellen said, wiping a hand over her eyes. “I get to see everyone I lost here again and relive the best parts of my life. I can’t complain. I even get to kick Ash out of the Roadhouse every once in a while, something I didn’t do when we were all alive.”

“Have you seen anyone else here in your Heaven? Any other souls of people you might have known?” Metatron asked, struggling to keep his voice calm and disinterested.

“No, I haven’t seen any other souls in my Heaven,” Ellen replied, only lying slightly. After all, after the first time Ash had shown up, she’d not seen other souls here. “The angel who told me what had happened said all souls get their own Heaven. I didn’t think it was possible to leave.”

“Souls do get their own Heaven, yes, but some Heavens contain two souls. Soulmates don’t get split up,” Metatron explained, repressing the sigh at her words. He was much closer though. Perhaps this Ash would be in a Heaven nearby. “Thank you for your story. I would like to speak with some of the people you mentioned. If you see Ash or Jo or anyone else in your Heaven, will you tell me please?”

“Of course,” Ellen nodded, lying through her teeth. While she wasn’t all that much of a fan of Naomi, something about this Metatron got her back up. “Can I ask a favor? If you hear anything about Castiel or Sam and Dean Winchester, will you let me know? I’ve come to care about them and I’d like to hear how they’re doing.”

Metatron nodded as he stood and let his chair disappear. Ellen smiled and settled back against the car, the blond man appearing again. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pointing out more constellations as Metatron left. It was touching, a simple moment of being human and Metatron filed it away with the rest of his stories. But now that he knew what the Roadhouse looked like, he could find the Heavens that it inhabited. Soon, Heaven would be his again and Metatron would no longer have to worry. All he wanted, after all, was to be safe in his own home. Was that too much to ask for?


	12. Fear

“I got it!” Ash exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the bar. Bobby looked up from the chess game he was playing with Naomi while Pam and Jo stopped their argument over the music coming from the jukebox. They’d reached a standstill, unable to do much more than they’d been doing until someone found out how to fix what Metatron had done. “I know how to reverse that spell.”

“Well computer boy, why don’t you share,” Pam drawled when Ash started typing furiously at his computer. She’d gotten used to him by now, knew Ash could get sucked into his own little world. “We’re all agog with curiosity.”

Ash ignored Pam for another few minutes, still typing. There were a few things that weren’t clear about what he was reading, a couple different translations for the Enochian. Times like this made him miss Raziel even more; the angel would have been able to translate this quicker than Ash could have believed. Things had been a lot quieter around here even with the other souls inhabiting his Heaven. Well, the quickest way Ash knew to figure out the exact translation was to write out each option. Finally, he looked up with a grin on his face to meet Pam’s annoyed stare.

“What?” Ash asked, shrugging. “I needed to get the right wording.”

“Maybe we should get Ellen and Sarah?” Bobby asked, moving a pawn to take one of Naomi’s knights. He set the piece to the side of the board and nodded at the angel. “I mean, Metatron’s going to be looking for us. He won’t be too happy about us destroying bits of Heaven. Better to explain once and get everything going.”

“I’ll go get them,” Pam offered, heading towards the door near the bar. Jo pumped one fist into the air, excited to have won their argument even with it being through Pam giving up. REO Speedwagon started playing as Jo settled on one of the stools next to Ash. Trying to read what Ash was reading turned out to be impossible; all Jo could make out where squiggly lines in several rows on the screen. While she could recognize Enochian, Jo had absolutely no idea what it said. Or even what direction to read it in.

Pam headed to Ellen’s Heaven first, wanting to give Sarah a bit more time. The poor girl was still having a hard time adjusting to the life the rest of them were used to. But she was sticking at it, determination and stubbornness keeping Sarah fighting just as hard as she could. That was something that Pam could admire, and did. They’d all made the same choice when the Winchesters had walked into their lives, the choice to help when and where they could. While it had resulted in her own death, which Pam was pissed off about at first, she had to admit that she would have done nothing differently. Except maybe not burned her eyes out trying to see Castiel’s true face. _That_ , she definitely would have avoided.

Walking out the same door she’d walked into, though into a different Roadhouse, Pam looked around for Ellen. The bar was empty though the jukebox played. And there was a feel in the air, something glittery and sharp. It was the feeling Pam had come to associate with angels. Crickets chirped outside, accompanying the slow crooning song from the jukebox. Pam could see a gibbous moon through the windows, nestled in a velvet sky sparkled with stars. The balls on the pool table were racked for a game no one was going to play while the chairs sat at tables, empty. The entire place had the feel of a ghost town though nothing was out of place. If there had been an angel here, they didn’t stay long. Muffled laughter drew her outside where Ellen sat with Bill on the hood of a car.

“Bad time?” Pam called, a grin tugging at her lips. Ellen looked over her shoulder at Pam and grimaced. It would seem her time to herself had come to an end. It was nice to escape to her own Heaven once in a while but duty called. They were the frontline of Naomi’s plans. Pressing a kiss to Bill’s lips, Ellen sat back and let him disappear.

“No worse than any other,” Ellen finally replied, sliding off the hood of the car and stretching. “Ash finally figure out what he found? I don’t think we have much time, Metatron came to visit.”

“That would explain what I’m sensing,” Pam nodded in satisfaction. “Angels leave a... trace, a feeling behind when they visit somewhere. Ash said he was almost done. What did Metatron have to say?”

“Just wanted to hear my story and asked what color hair Jo had,” Ellen explained, walking with Pam back into the Roadhouse. While Ash could turn any door into a door to anywhere in Heaven, it was easier for them to use the doors he’d set up already. And that meant using the door in the bar itself next to the counter. “I think he might have seen Jo and Ash; he asked about them specifically. We may want to consider moving to another Heaven since he knows about the Roadhouse now.”

“We’ll deal with that if we need to,” Pam shook her head, sighing. She’d honestly thought they’d have a little more time. Though they could always go to Bobby’s or Sarah’s Heaven. They would be very different from Ash’s or Ellen’s. They walked into Ash’s Heaven to see Naomi taking Bobby’s king and Jo staring in complete fascination at the sheet of paper Ash was writing on. “I need to go get Sarah. Be back in a few.”

“Have you ever lost a game?” Bobby asked exasperatedly as Naomi started to set up the board again.

“I have, yes. Though only to one other,” Naomi replied, smiling gently. “My brother Harahel was the only one who could beat me. We would spend hours in the library he’d created playing. I learned everything I know about chess from him. I haven’t seen him in a very long time, though.”

Pam didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as she passed through the front door to the Heaven Sarah called her own. The woman was sitting on the bank of a lake, ducks and geese swimming serenely in the middle. Fleecy white clouds drifted overhead while a bright, warm sun shone down. Sarah had tears streaming down her face as Pam walked up next to her. There was an air of absolute depression about Sarah. That was something Pam could understand though they didn’t have time for it now. Losing everything of what you knew, even coming to a place like this, was terribly difficult. While Sarah had held it together in front of the others, here she could let everything out. And while she was strong enough to handle the life of a hunter, she didn’t particularly _want_ to anymore.

“Hi,” Sarah said, hearing Pam stop next to her. She wiped a hand hastily over her eyes and sniffed though she knew it was far too late to hide the tears. “Something wrong?”

“Not with us but there is with you,” Pam replied, sitting down and propping her elbows on her thighs. “It can wait a little bit. Talk to me.”

“It’s... it’s nothing,” Sarah stammered, wiping her hand over her eyes again. The tears had mostly stopped, though a few still glimmered in her eyes. “Just feeling a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“That’s understandable, honey,” Pam said sympathetically, slinging an arm over Sarah’s shoulders. “You just wanted a normal life, right? Husband, kids, the whole deal? After Sam and Dean left I bet you never expected them to show back up in your life.”

“No, though it took me a while to believe Sam wouldn’t come back,” Sarah laughed, shaking her head. “I thought we might have had something. I wouldn’t have minded him going on hunts or even helping myself. It felt good to stop that ghost. But I gave that up, married my husband, had a baby. I was supposed to raise my child, see grandchildren, grow old with my husband. And it kind of struck home when I went back that I’m never going to get that. I’m never going to see my family again until they die.”

“You know, I realized something dealing with those boys,” Pam said meditatively, watching a duck skim across the surface of the lake. “Nothing ever goes the way you plan. And it seems like there’s a ticking clock that starts the moment you meet them. Reminds me of the story of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. Those boys are like the sun, pulling you in and you have no choice. But when you get there, your wings get burned away and you fall back to Earth. I just remind myself of the good they, and I, have done. The innocent souls who are still alive because I allowed myself to get drawn into their orbit. How many people did you save when you stuck it out with Sam and dealt with that ghost?”

“I don’t know. I do know that painting would have sold again and again, merely for the morbidity of it,” Sarah sighed, watching the same duck pop its head under the water and come up with a few strands of water reed. “I know it was worth it. I just wish I had had a different ending. I thought about going to my family when I was down there. I wanted to see them again so badly. But the spell didn’t last that long and there were things I needed to explain to Sam. And I’m going to have to go down there again, aren’t I, and forgo seeing my family. They need to grieve. They need to move on and seeing me won’t help. But I’m so afraid they won’t remember me. How do you deal with that fear?”

“You’ve got it, honey,” Pam said, nodding. She squeezed Sarah’s shoulders in a hug, trying to offer as much comfort as she could. “They won’t forget you and you’ll see them again. Just remember that they love you. That’s how you deal with that fear. But we’ve got work to do now. Ash finally finished translating that spell and you need to talk to Sam.”

Sarah shook her head and hugged Pam back. She’d actually been avoiding the memories of her family, knowing it would be that much harder to keep fighting when they were right there in her Heaven. Finally, Sarah heaved herself to her feet and gestured for Pam to lead the way. Sitting here wallowing wasn’t helping and the faster they could finish this, the faster Sarah could come back and really stay. She wanted to see her husband and baby again, desperately.

Pam opened the door that was standing in the middle of the field next to the lake and walked inside. She and Sarah had to wait a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the dimness of the Roadhouse compared to the bright sunshine of the lake. Once they could see, they saw Ellen playing chess with Naomi while Bobby sat to the side giving pointers to Ellen. Ash and Jo were arguing quietly over a sheet of paper, Ash pointing emphatically to it in places. Sarah sat down next to Ash and opened up a can of soda. She sipped while listening until one name caught her attention.

“Metatron?” Sarah repeated and craned her head to look down at the paper. “How in the world are we supposed to get something from Metatron for this spell? He’d kill us in a heartbeat.”

“I think I have an idea,” Naomi interrupted before Ash could say anything. “But I need a little help. If everything goes to plan, we’ll get a piece of his hair and send you, Sarah, down to Earth with it. Then we can fix everything Metatron screwed up up here.”


	13. Heaven

Absolute silence greeted Naomi’s words. How could they possibly get close to Metatron and stay in one piece? While they were already dead, there were many things an angel could do to make the afterlife a living hell. And surprising an angel who knew as much about Heaven and angels as Metatron did? The more they delved into this, the more impossible it seemed.

“Are you going to share?” Pam finally asked dryly, settling onto a bar stool. “We’re all breathlessly awaiting your plan.”

“It’s fairly simple, really,” Naomi shrugged, moving one of her knights forward. “And check. There are enough of us here for my plan to work. While I and maybe Pam distract Metatron, the rest sneak up on him and try to steal one of his hairs. Metatron has been staying in human form while here and it should be easy.”

“Makes sense,” Bobby nodded, studying the board while he spoke. He pointed at one of Ellen’s bishops before continuing, “Simple plans are always the best. How do you plan on distracting him?”

“And why me?” Pam cut in, shaking her head. “I won’t last long against an angel, psychic abilities or not.”

“Your abilities will allow you to evade him,” Naomi explained, smiling at Pam. It sent chills through the woman; there was nothing of mirth and everything of the thrill of the hunt in it. “We can alternate who he’s chasing after when he gets too close to one of us. While we’re leading him, our other friends here will be waiting. With any luck, one of them will be able to snatch a hair from him. Blood would be even better. If you can scratch or cut him, do so.”

“And once we have this piece, I go back down to Earth?” Sarah asked. Ellen moved her bishop to take Naomi’s knight and placed the knight to the side of the board. Bobby smiled at her in encouragement.

“Yes. Now that Ash has translated the spell, you can explain everything to the Winchesters,” Naomi nodded, a satisfied glint appearing in her eyes to go with her grin. “Once they gather the rest of the needed components, they can cast the spell. The angels should be returned to Heaven and we can choose how to deal with Metatron.”

“Should?” Bobby repeated, doubt suffusing his face. Naomi moved a pawn ahead one space then turned her attention back to Bobby. “You mean you aren’t sure if this spell is going to work?”

“As it’s never been tried, no. I have no idea if this is going to work,” Naomi admitted, studying the board as Ellen moved one of her own pawns forward. “However, the spell to eject all the angels from Heaven had never been tried before and it worked perfectly. Have a little faith, Bobby Singer. How often have you been instrumental in changing the course of fate?”

“Before we do this, we should probably move to a different Heaven,” Ellen said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Metatron’s been asking questions about Jo and Ash. I think he might have seen them on one of their destructive forays. He’s probably getting close.”

“Bobby’s is the furthest away,” Ash explained, folding up the paper he’d written the spell on. Handing the sheet to Sarah, he closed his laptop and tucked it against his chest. “His might be the best Heaven to go to.”

“I’m losing this game anyway,” Ellen sighed, tipping over her king and standing up. Ash walked to the door and erased the sigils there. Quickly chalking on a different set, Ash opened the door to a dimly lit study. It was crowded with books and a fire roared in the fireplace behind the desk. The sound of bickering voices floated through the open doorway as everyone filed through. Before closing the door, Ash carefully wiped out the sigils just in case Metatron did indeed find his Heaven.

“You scoot, asshat,” Sam’s voice snapped and Bobby let out a resigned sigh. Of course they would come into this memory. This was the last one he saw, the best saved for last, when he’d been running from his reaper. Just a regular night with Sam and Dean acting like normal guys watching a movie. Bobby had treasured the memory, treasured the boys he’d come to adopt.

“Guess they always argued, huh?” Pam laughed, watching the tableau with interest. She had only met the boys a few times but the love they felt for each other shone clearly through. At least to her senses. Arguments and name-calling tended to be how they showed that love as both were rather bad at sharing emotions.

“When you spend nearly every minute of every day together, you get on each other’s nerves,” Bobby explained, settling into the leather armchair behind his desk. It conformed to his body perfectly and Bobby felt far more comfortable than he had in a long time. His home had burned on Earth and it was nice to be able to come back. “You argue to blow off steam knowing it doesn’t really mean anything. Just wait, soon they’ll be arguing over who the best zombie killer was. And whether licorice is actual candy.”

“It’s nice to see them doing something normal,” Sarah remarked, staring wistfully at the Winchesters. It reminded her a lot of her husband and movie nights they’d had. Though both of them had liked licorice. “From the way they talked when I met them, it seemed like hunting monsters was all they ever did.”

“That’s what happened most of the time,” Bobby agreed, letting his hands roam over the books on his desk. Nostalgia grew in him and he glanced around the study with a smile on his face. “But there were rare moments when they got to be people. Gave them a reason to keep fighting. They wanted to make sure everyone got a chance at normal rather than being hunters or hunted.”

“Bobby, you should make them go,” Ellen said softly, giving the older hunter a sympathetic glance. “Just concentrate and you can change things about your Heaven. I think they’ll be a little distracting.”

Bobby did as Ellen suggested and concentrated on the room without the boys on the couch. They slowly faded away, voices dimming as they did. Finally, silence reigned in the study as the couch stood empty. The trappings of a movie night disappeared as well, the popcorn and candy fading just as the Winchesters had. Ash and Jo took the couch as Ellen moved to stand behind Bobby. She put her hand on his shoulder, giving comfort through simple touch. Pam and Naomi stood near the doorway, on guard in case Metatron did indeed find them.

“So, when do we want to start this hunt?” Jo asked, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “We probably shouldn’t wait too long.”

“Time’s not really a factor for the spell,” Ash disagreed, shaking his head. “As long as we have all the ingredients and a fallen angel says the spell, it will all work. Where is Metatron? Can you tell Naomi?”

Naomi closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a few minutes. Her face took on a look of extreme concentration and all the others were silent so as not to interrupt her. Naomi let her consciousness roam through Heaven, searching out the only other angel inhabiting the place. As this was a passive ability that all angels had, Metatron shouldn’t be able to sense her. Naomi decided to search near Ellen’s Heaven first as that was the last place they knew Metatron had been. Her hunch turned out right as Metatron was only a few Heavens away from Ellen’s. It was actually a good idea they’d moved since Metatron was frighteningly close to Ash’s. He was actually moving in a straight line right towards it. Well, as straight as lines between Heavens got.

“Found him,” Naomi announced triumphantly, opening her eyes. “He’s very near Ash’s Heaven. That might actually work in our favor. Perhaps I can distract him myself while you all sneak up on him. He’ll want to find out how I was healed. I can keep his attention while one of you cuts him with this.”

Naomi twisted her hand in a fluid motion and her angel blade dropped into it. It gleamed silver, reflecting the flames from the fireplace. She studied it somberly for a few moments; it had been a long time since she considered using it on family. Not since Lucifer’s fall as Naomi had stayed neutral during the war between Castiel and Raphael. Looking up, Naomi studied each of her confederates in turn before handing the blade to Jo.

“I believe you have the best chance,” she explained, turning to an angry Ellen. “She’s quick and she has experience with blades. Can any of you say you move just as quickly? Sarah has no experience with fighting at all and is best left out of the battle. Pam has other skills and you and Bobby don’t move as fast as you did, Ellen. But you can give Jo a fighting chance.”

“I don’t like this plan,” Ellen grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She glared at Naomi, wanting to protect her daughter. “You’re gambling that you can keep him distracted long enough for Jo to sneak up on him. The most we can do is yell at him to catch his attention for a moment. What happens if he hurts my daughter?”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Jo interrupted, standing and moving to her mother’s side to pull her into a hug. “I can do it. Besides, what damage are all those angels doing on Earth? You know some of them hate humans. This is the best plan we’ve got, with only one angel on our side. I can do this.”

“Fine,” Ellen grumbled after thinking silently for several long moments. “But if anything happens to her, Naomi, I’m coming after you.”

“I understand,” Naomi said gravely, inclining her head at Ellen. She let her consciousness roam again to pinpoint exactly where Metatron was. He had finally found Ash’s Heaven and was looking around interestedly. Naomi had to admit, the human was cunning. Wiping out the sigils meant that Metatron would be staying there to puzzle them out. “He’s at the Roadhouse now. Are we all ready?”

“No time like the present,” Jo grinned, hefting the angel blade. “Let’s go get ourselves a piece of angel.”


	14. Moon

Sam headed into the kitchen and nodded at Kevin. He nodded back, gesturing with a spatula to the plates of food sitting on the table. Sam poured himself a glass of orange juice then sat down, spooning egg and bacon onto an empty plate. He expected to see Dean and Cas soon though wouldn’t wait for them. He was still ravenously hungry after the trial though it still did seem to be getting better. At least he didn’t feel like he was going to fade away from sheer hunger anymore.

“So, who was that?” Kevin asked once the last batch of eggs was finished. He dumped them onto the half-full plate on the table and sat down himself. “And why was she fading away?”

“That was Sarah,” Sam explained around a mouthful of bacon. “She helped us on a case a long time ago. Haunted painting. Crowley targeted her when he was trying to get to us. We weren’t able to save her in time. Evidently, she’s working with some of our old friends in Heaven and Naomi. They’re trying to fix what Metatron did.”

“Is that possible?” Kevin asked incredulously, shaking his head. “I’ve been working through the angel tablet, Sam. So far, I’m not finding anything that says the spell _can_ be reversed. I’ll keep working on it but I don’t think there’s a fix for this.”

“Naomi seems to think it can be done. I don’t know if it really can, but it’s a goal to work towards, you know?” Sam shrugged, taking a sip of orange juice. “Besides, it’s better than running around down here like chickens with our heads cut off. Sometimes the only thing you can do is keep working.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Kevin said dryly. A silence fell between them as they continued eating, an easy one despite difficulties that lay all around them. The bunker was the one place everyone felt safe, the one place they could go to to regroup. After several minutes where the only sounds were the clinking of silverware and breathing, Kevin finally said, “Kinda odd that Dean’s not up yet. Usually he’s either making breakfast or up as soon as he smells it.”

“I think that’s because of Cas,” Sam replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “Cas is one of his best friends, you know. There’s a lot they need to discuss. And from what I’ve seen, maybe more than a best friend.”

Kevin shrugged and continued eating. From reading Chuck’s books, he’d definitely gotten the impression that Dean and Cas were close. The guy was the only one Dean really seemed to trust other than Sam. Especially after John Winchester had died. And he’d seen them holding hands himself. Deciding that it had nothing to do with him, Kevin finished his breakfast and wandered back to his room. Since he’d cooked, he didn’t need to do dishes. The tablets were calling and Kevin really hoped to find something to help. He had a feeling that angels wandering the Earth were going to be a giant problem before long.

Sam finished about the same time as Kevin and carried the dishes to the sink. The leftovers he stuck in the fridge after deciding Dean and Cas could just heat the eggs and bacon back up. He washed up the dishes quickly, leaving them drying in the drying rack. At loose ends, Sam decided to pull out his laptop and do some research. Maybe he could find a case or something. While dealing with the angels was important, they were at an impasse until they found more information. A normal case might help with the edginess Sam couldn’t shake. Having nothing to do grated on him. Taking a page from Dean’s habits on searching for cases, Sam typed in “freaky deaths” in his search engine and let his computer work. Of course, completely bogus things popped up. Then, something caught his attention. People were having incredibly good luck in a small down in South Dakota, luck that couldn’t possibly be natural. Walking away from a crushed car without a scratch, finding the exact amount of money they needed for something in a hole in a wall, perfect weather for whatever event someone was hosting. It was suspicious and there were several beings Sam knew of that had the power to affect people’s lives like that. Namely, crossroad deals.

“Looks like we have a case,” Sam muttered to himself, writing down the town and the names of the people affected in the article.

“Did you say case?” Dean asked, walking with Cas into the room Sam was researching in. “And I smelled bacon and eggs. There any left?”

“Yeah, weird stuff happening in this small town,” Sam explained, turning his laptop around so Dean could read the article himself. Cas read over the elder Winchester’s shoulder, one hand on Dean’s shoulder to help steady himself. “Breakfast is in the fridge. You guys slept in so you get to reheat it.”

“We’ll check it out,” Dean nodded, straightening up and smiling at Cas. “After breakfast.”

“Yeah, fine by me,” Sam said, pulling his laptop back and watching them walk into the kitchen. While they were standing as close to each other as they normally did, there was an ease between them that hadn’t been there before. Dean looked genuinely happy, looked like he was thrilled to have their little family all here in the bunker. While Dean and Cas ate breakfast, Sam checked quickly for any more articles relating to the case he’d found and then headed to his room to pack. It didn’t take long as he kept everything neatly in its own space. By the time he was done, Dean had headed into his own room to pack. Cas was wandering around the living room, looking at the artifacts the Men of Letters had assembled.

“We’re still finding all kinds of stuff,” Sam commented, walking up and staring at the katana Cas was studying. “There’s so much information here and on things I never even thought existed. The Men of Letters were very thorough.”

“I can see that,” Cas nodded, turning to face Sam. “You know, I never imagined this place existed. Had I known about it, things would have been a lot easier a few years ago. Lucifer would never have found you here, nor would Crowley.”

“What’s done is done, Cas,” Sam shrugged, turning when Dean’s footsteps sounded in the hall. “Are you coming on this hunt?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here,” Cas shook his head, smiling when Dean appeared. “I want to get used to being human before I start hunting. I can get hurt or even killed now. I need to adjust my instincts and reactions.”

“We’ll be back when we can,” Dean said, glancing furtively at Sam before pulling Cas into a hug. Knowing how uncomfortable Dean was with affection, Sam obligingly looked away and studied the katana again, ignoring the whispered words that passed between the two men. “Maybe you can help Kevin with the angel tablet? I know you can’t read it but you might find something once he’s written things out.”

“I can try,” Cas said doubtfully, shrugging. “If it’s anything like the Leviathan tablet, things should be spelled out fairly clearly. But it will give me something to do.”

“Good luck, Cas,” Sam said, shouldering his duffel bag and heading towards the door. Dean followed after one last hug, a bit surprised at how tactile he’d become. Dean shoved his own duffel in the trunk of the Impala next to Sam’s and started the engine. It roared to life with a throaty purr and the brothers headed out to South Dakota. The trip was nothing new; they’d gone on countless ones like it before. Dean played his favorite music a little too loud while Sam rolled his eyes and busied himself with his phone. Though when Bon Jovi came on, Sam couldn’t help but sing along. While they had the forces of Heaven and Hell most likely arrayed against them, things were starting to look up. Maybe, just this once, they could come through this with everybody still alive.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

There was a feeling to the air, one that Metatron had come to recognize again. An angel had been here, very recently. It was a feeling that Metatron had nearly forgotten in his time down on Earth. But it was unmistakable now, a sense of kinship and _sameness_ glittering in the motes of air. He was in another copy of the Roadhouse but finally in the right one. The rubbed out sigils on the doors indicated that much. And, as he concentrated, he could sense a couple other, far older, angelic presences. Raziel and Ambriel if he wasn’t very much mistaken. Metatron snorted to himself and shook his head. Of course, those two would end up hanging out with souls that would blow up bits of Heaven.

“Hello Metatron,” Naomi’s voice broke into his reverie. “I see you’re enjoying the ambiance.”

“Naomi,” Metatron said evenly, turning around to stare at her. He tilted his head, surprised that she was as healthy as she was. What could have done that? “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

“You mean when you drove that drill through the back of my head?” Naomi asked, spreading her hands wide. “That wasn’t very pleasant, I can assure you. Though isn’t it amazing what can be done, up here in Heaven? You thought you took care of me yet here I stand.”

“Yes, here you stand,” Metatron repeated, narrowing his eyes. There was a trace on Naomi, something foreign that he couldn’t quite place. Something powerful but not angelic. “Why are you here, Naomi? You know what I can do to you even though I’m not nearly as powerful as you are. My knowledge goes a long way.”

As the two angels spoke, the human souls crept into the Roadhouse. Ellen and Jo hunkered down behind the bar, Jo hefting the angel blade in her hands. It was strangely light for something that was so devastating to angels, demons, and humans alike. Bobby and Ash had crept behind the pool table and grabbed pool cues, prepared to make as much noise as they could before bolting to a new hiding place. Pam was the closest to Metatron, standing just outside the front door. Ash could work some very interesting miracles with his sigils and had managed to open a door for her right next to the front door. Sarah had stayed in Bobby’s Heaven as it was imperative she stayed safe. She was the best connection to the Winchesters on Earth. Though Naomi could fly down, it was best if she didn’t. Metatron could trace her easily and bring their plans to a screeching halt.

“When do you think I should go for him?” Jo whispered to her mother, voice breath more than sound. “I need to be able to get away cleanly.”

“Give it another minute or so,” Ellen replied, darting a glance over the top of the bar. Metatron hadn’t moved away from the door but his focus was almost entirely on Naomi. “See if he moves any closer to her. If you could get behind him, you can run out the door and Pam can take you through the door Ash made out there.”

“Did you really think I’d allow you to have Heaven without a fight, Metatron?” Naomi asked, chuckling. The disbelief was evident in her eyes and Naomi pulled out a chair. She settled into it calmly, crossing one leg over the other elegantly. She was the perfect vision of nonchalance and perfect ease, gesturing for Metatron to take the other chair. “Why don’t you sit down and we can talk this out like rational beings. I would prefer not to fight you if I can help it. Surely we can come to some agreement?”

Metatron stepped forward slowly, eyes narrowed at Naomi. This was something he would have expected from her, the wish for talk and agreement. Yet, Naomi had perfected the art of deception and could just as easily stab him with an angel blade as talk to him. But there were no hints of lies, no ulterior motives that Metatron could sense. Naomi appeared to be completely honest and sincere in her desire for a peaceful outcome. Besides, the drill had been destroyed in the explosion, hadn’t it? There was nothing she could do to affect his mind. Deciding it would harm nothing to at least listen, Metatron walked forward to sit down on the chair Naomi had indicated. Leaning forward on his elbows, Metatron met her eyes squarely.

“What are you offering?” he asked bluntly, unaware of Jo who had crept ever so slowly out from behind the bar. 

“I am offering peace between us,” Naomi replied smoothly, idly drawing her finger along the top of the table in an odd design. There was a slight, barely noticeable sheen for a second after her finger before it faded away. Metatron didn’t even notice the sheen nor the design she was drawing. “I agree to leave you alone as long as you leave me alone. I understand you’ve been having issues with some souls up here. I can help you with that.”

“Seems reasonable,” Metatron said thoughtfully, tapping at his bottom lip. “I get what I want, I get left alone here at home. Heaven doesn’t get blown up anymore. But what do you get out of it.”

“I get left alone as well,” Naomi explained, using her peripheral vision to track Jo’s slow creeping. She lifted one eyebrow while looking over Metatron’s shoulder, pretending to think. Now that she was done drawing the design, Jo had a clear shot. If only she’d take it in time. “With all the angels down on Earth, I no longer have a job up here. I’d like to spend some of that time in quiet contemplation. Without looking over my shoulder for an angel blade wielded by you. Does that seem fair?”

“Eminently fair,” Metatron smiled, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. That put him in excellent range of Jo’s knife. Before he could continue, she’d darted forward and slashed across his shoulders. A bright splash of blood spurted out, coating the knife and the chair. Jo immediately bolted back towards the front door, thundering through it while Ellen, Ash, and Bobby proceeded to make as much noise as they could. Ellen threw glasses from the shelves behind the bar to the floor while Ash and Bobby slammed their pool cues into the floor. As Metatron moved to stand up, Naomi grinned evilly at him and slapped her hand down on the sigil she’d drawn in grace on the table. On a high-pitched scream, Metatron disappeared in a flash of blinding light, his wings flashing as black shadows against the bar wall.

“That should take care of him for about an hour or so,” Naomi said in satisfaction, standing up and wiping the traces of her grace off the table. The others stopped what they were doing and stood, surprise and satisfaction mingling on their faces. To have it done, to have gotten Metatron’s blood on the knife so quickly and seemingly easy, seemed surreal. “Why don’t we head back to Bobby’s Heaven? There are a few things I need to tell Sarah before we send her down to the Winchesters.”

Naomi led the way through the doorway, Ash following last as usual. When he reached the door he’d created outside, he carefully wiped the sigils away before walking through and closing it. While they were close to being finished with this whole war against Metatron, he didn’t want the angel to find them anytime soon. Sarah was waiting impatiently in the kitchen of Bobby’s house, looking from Pam to Jo and back again. Jo was flipping the knife in her hands, grinning widely while Pam just shook her head at the young woman’s antics.

“So? How did it go?” Sarah asked as the others filed into the kitchen. Bobby went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring a shot for everyone. “Pam and Jo have been closemouthed and won’t tell me a thing. Though that does look like blood on that knife.”

“We were successful and Metatron is not likely to find us,” Naomi said, downing her shot before telling the rest of the story. Bobby nodded at her, impressed at her use of the banishing sigil. He’d never thought angels could use their grace like that. “And there is one more thing I need to tell you before you go back.”

“All right, I’m ready,” Sarah said, as Jo wiped the angel blade with a handkerchief and handed the bloody cloth to her. She tucked it into a pocket, unconsciously wiping her hand on her jeans even though the blood hadn’t touched her. “What do I need to know?”

“The spell needs to be cast during a full moon,” Naomi said, writing down the list of ingredients again for the spell. Ellen and Ash would harvest them carefully, making sure Metatron didn’t see them. Not even Naomi knew where he’d been sent. That sigil had never been used in Heaven itself before. “Once we have the ingredients for the spell, you need to move quickly. There’s a full moon in three days. It would be best for the Winchesters to cast the spell again. I don’t know that I can avoid Metatron for an entire month if they fail. He’ll be after me even more now and I doubt I’ll catch him by surprise like that again. All our lives hinge on this.”

“This is the spell,” Ash continued, handing Sarah a piece of paper with Enochian and an English translation underneath the Enochian. Ellen had already slipped out, using Bobby’s front door. Ash had already chalked the sigils on it to the Garden before they’d left for his Heaven and the confrontation with Metatron. “Castiel needs to say this spell and it needs a piece of his hair. His grace was a key ingredient and some part of him needs to be involved in the reversal. The last part is the blood of a mortal in love with an angel. It might be difficult to find but, if anyone can, the Winchesters can.”

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” Sarah said doubtfully, watching as Ash chalked new sigils on the back door and left. It wouldn’t take him and Ellen long to gather the materials. “I mean, angels haven’t been on Earth for hundreds of years, right? I remember the one who welcomed me here mentioning that I was the first human he’d met. So how are we going to find a mortal in love with an angel?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi replied sadly, settling in a chair and pouring herself another shot. “I can only hope the Winchesters prove as resourceful now as they’ve done before.”


	15. Hair

“And you just walked away from the accident without a scratch?” Sam asked Marie Ambrose, the first person Sam had noticed in the newspaper. Of course, it could just be a coincidence but luck like that was often no coincidence. They’d already tested her for possession by the simple expedient of splashing a little holy water on Sam’s palm before she’d opened the door. Shaking Sam’s hand had merely resulted in Marie wiping her hand on her jeans and inviting the Winchesters in.

“Yes, I couldn’t believe it, Mr. Smith,” Marie told Sam, smiling in bemused wonder. “In the first second or so of the accident, I thought I was going to die. I could see it coming and I couldn’t stop it. The police that got there first said it was impossible for me to survive. The entire roof of the car was caved in. It’s a miracle.”

“That’s an incredible stroke of luck,” Dean said, balancing the cup of coffee Marie had handed him on his knee. One finger idly stroked the rim of the cup as Dean studied the woman. That sounded like a deal to him. Though what exactly for, he didn’t know. There were a few things Dean could think of that would end in surviving an accident. “Have you ever had luck like that before? Or anything else odd or miraculous.”

“You know, there was something else. About a month ago, I was really sick. Cancer,” Marie replied after a few moments thought. “The doctors only gave me a couple weeks. I was in the oncology hallway waiting for some further tests. A bishop came into my room and introduced himself as Father Rose. He’d been making the rounds of the patients as the priest who usually came was sick. We started talking and I was, well complaining really, that my life was getting cut so short. I had so much more I wanted to do. More time I wanted to spend with my family. Father Rose was so sympathetic and understanding, trying to comfort me as best he could. I started crying and said that I would give anything, even my soul, to be healthy. I regretted it immediately, blaspheming like that in front of a bishop. But he just smiled at me and nodded a little bit. It was like he understood the frustration and pain I was feeling. We talked for a few more minutes after that, I kissed his ring when he stood up, and he left. I remember falling asleep after and dreaming that I was surrounded by warmth. When the doctors woke me up for the tests, they found that my cancer was completely gone. I was as healthy as if it had never been. I was thrilled beyond belief and didn’t think too much about it. Why question a miracle such as that?”

“I wouldn’t question it,” Sam nodded, writing down a few things in the notebook he’d pulled out. He was fairly certain they’d gotten everything they needed. While Marie hadn’t actually kissed Bishop Rose himself, maybe kissing the ring sealed the deal. After all, clergy didn’t go around kissing people and Marie had no idea she’d even made a deal. “Thank you for telling us. I think we’ve gotten the information we need for the article. We appreciate it and have a good day, Mrs. Ambrose.”

“Thank you for letting me tell it,” Marie smiled, standing up and shaking both Sam and Dean’s hands. “Have a good day gentlemen.”

She walked them to the door and waved one last time before closing it. It felt good to tell the story, explain the miracles that had happened to her. Sam waited until they were settled in the Impala, and completely out of Marie’s earshot, before sighing and shaking his head. Her story had all the earmarks of a crossroads deal. The worst part about it was, if they killed the demon, it wouldn’t invalidate her deal and save her soul. They could try to get the demon to spill about the holder of the contracts but that wasn’t likely.

“Definitely a deal,” Dean remarked, echoing Sam’s thoughts as the Impala’s engine rumbled to life. He pulled away from Marie’s house, heading towards the next person they wanted to interview. Adam Kline had found a fortune buried in the walls of his home just when he needed it most. They paid his medical bills after a complicated surgery and he hadn’t lost everything. “I hate when demons pose as priests, man. It’s just skeevy.”

“Yeah, but at least he should be fairly easy to find,” Sam offered, shrugging. “A priest visiting sick people in a hospital? It would be easy pickings. And what’s with kissing the ring to seal the deal? That’s new.”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe they’re getting into the roles of their meatsuits?” Dean shrugged, glaring at the driver of a car who’d cut him off. “How about after we go see Adam Kline, we get some lunch? I’m starving.”

Sam nodded and stared out the window for the rest of the drive. His stomach was grumbling, letting Sam know that the hunger still hadn’t completely gone away. Yet still, it was better. This time, Sam was fairly certain he’d only eat what a normal person ate in one meal, rather than what three people might eat. And his hands were tingling again, a flowing warmth moving from the tips of his fingers up his palm and stopping at his wrist. Rubbing at them didn’t stop the feeling, merely increased it. For the rest of the drive, Sam absently rubbed his fingers against the palms of his hands. The whole sensation wasn’t painful. It was actually rather pleasant. Dean didn’t notice the movement though he was thrilled that Sam seemed to be healthy. And without a crossroads deal or desperate measure or anything like that. It was refreshing not to have his soul in hock for once.

The interview with Adam Kline was eerily similar to Marie Amrbrose’s. He spoke of a priest who came to see him at his request before his surgery. A Bishop Rose as the regular priest was out sick. Again, his surgery was about a month ago, a very risky one to repair a defect in his heart. There had been a very good chance Adam wouldn’t make it out. But, even before the surgery, Adam hadn’t been afraid of dying. He’d been terrified of not being able to pay the extremely high bills for his medical care. His wife Kathy had just lost her job and Adam himself didn’t make much more than minimum wage. Father Rose had heard his concerns and, just before the surgery, Adam admitted he’d mentioned he would do anything to make sure his family didn’t need to worry about money. He’d kissed Father Rose’s ring just as Marie had done and gone to surgery. The day after he’d gotten home, a bookcase had fallen in the study. It knocked a hole in the wall and revealed a cache of gold coins. Adam had sold the coins to a collector for a small fortune.

“Definitely a deal,” Dean said when they’d settled into a small diner for lunch. Dean had his customary burger and fries in front of him while Sam was sprinkling salad dressing on a roasted chicken salad. “You said the third person had good weather, right? Seems like a really small thing to sell your soul for.”

“Maybe. Maybe it was really important,” Sam shrugged, eating a bite of lettuce. He had his laptop open to one side and was searching for any priest with the last name of Rose. There was every possibility the demon was keeping the identity of his meatsuit. It would definitely make their job easier. “We’ll find out though.”

“How you doing, Sam?” Dean asked curiously around a mouthful of burger. “You were nearly dying not too long ago and now you’re running around on a case.”

“I’m feeling a lot better. Still hungry fairly often but I don’t eat as much as I did when I first woke up,” Sam said thoughtfully. He popped a piece of chicken into his mouth as he thought over his next words. Should he tell Dean everything? But the tingling was something small, maybe just a leftover of the purification the trials put him through. It probably meant nothing. “I think I’ve finally put the whole thing behind me. Maybe just this once, we don’t have to die for the greater good.”

Sam rubbed absently at his hand again, the tingling almost a background sensation now. It hadn’t gone away since they’d interview Marie Ambrose and her story confirmed that they were likely dealing with a demon. This time, Dean caught the gesture but couldn’t make head or tails from it. It didn’t seem important. They finished their lunch and paid the check, Sam closing down his laptop. He’d found one Bishop Rose, a Peter Rose. He was visiting the local parish and giving sermons. But first, they needed to speak with Amanda Parker.

“What? Bishop Rose?” Amanda said when they were all seated in her living room. “I don’t know a Bishop Rose. I’m not religious so I don’t go to church.”

“How about the hospital?” Dean asked, giving her his best smile. “Have you been sick in the last month or so?”

“No, I haven’t,” Amanda replied, shaking her head. “What does this have to do with my baby shower?”

“We’ve just noticed a string of lucky events for some people in town,” Sam jumped in, putting on an innocent look. He smiled at Amanda and continued, “We were wondering if perhaps your event was related. After all, a big storm cleared up just half an hour before your baby shower in the park.”

“That’s just the weather here,” Amanda said, eyes turning suspicious. “Who did you two say you were again?”

“We’re reporters,” Sam explained, but Amanda had had enough. This was getting far too strange for her.

“I think that it’s time for you gentlemen to leave,” Amanda said firmly, standing up and going to the door. She held it open pointedly, glaring at the Winchesters while they stood and walked out. “Good day.”

“Well, at least her soul’s safe,” Dean chuckled while they walked back towards the Impala. “Time to head to the church Bishop Rose is staying at?”

“Yeah, I think it’s his turn now,” Sam nodded, getting into the Impala carefully. No matter how many times he’d gotten into and out of the car, if he didn’t pay attention, he’d smack his head on the frame. The church Bishop Rose was staying at was on the other side of town and they spent the trip listening to Metallica. Dean sang along with every song he knew while Sam just rolled his eyes and stared out the window. The tingling in his hand was a little stronger now and Sam scratched at the back of his hand. Maybe Cas would know what was going on or even Kevin. The prophet might have found the spell Metatron used by the time they got back. Sam was intensely interested in possible side effects and whether the good health he was currently enjoying was going to last.

When they reached the church, Dean parked in the nearly empty parking lot. A couple cars were parked near the doors, two sad-looking people walking into the church. Dean could only imagine the problems that they were dealing with to put that sorrow on their faces. After checking to make sure all their weapons were secured and concealed, Dean and Sam followed the two into the church. They had kneeled in the pew at the back and were praying silently. A priest was moving around up near the altar, setting up flowers. Moving quickly, the Winchesters walked up the middle aisle to catch up with the priest.

“Excuse me,” Sam said, smiling at the priest. “We’re looking for Bishop Rose. Do you know where we might find him?”

“I’m Bishop Rose,” the priest replied, turning to smile back at Sam. “How can I help you both?”

“Christo,” Dean muttered, watching Father Rose’s eyes carefully. They flashed back and he sighed. 

“So, what can I do for the Winchesters?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, Abaddon has a price out on your heads. And Crowley’s. Though she wants Crowley more than you two right now. How about we make a deal. I let you two live with your insides all in place and you tell me where Crowley is?”

“How about we gank you and not have to worry?” Sam countered, pulling out his knife. The two people in the back pew, seeing the knife, got up quickly and left. 

“I have to say, I like his plan better,” Dean remarked, letting the angel blade he’d taken to carrying around slip into his hand.

“I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Father Rose sighed and waved negligently at Dean. The elder Winchester went flying backwards and slammed into one of the front pews. The demon held him there, turning towards Sam next. Stepping forward decisively, Father Rose knocked the knife aside as Sam tried to stab him with it. Wrapping his fingers around Sam’s throat, the demon shoved Sam into the altar. “Abaddon doesn’t care if you are alive or dead so I think we’ll go with dead. Far safer to transport you both that way. Wouldn’t want you to stab me, after all.”

Sam tried to draw in breaths around the fingers strangling him. He made small choking noises, fingers scrabbling at Father Rose’s hand. His eyes flicked to Dean, who was struggling against the force holding him to the pew. Dean could barely move his head much less break the demon’s hold. And there would be no timely rescue by an angel best friend this time. Sam looked back at Father Rose, meeting the coal black eyes that held malice and a dark delight in squeezing the life out of him. His hands were tingling so intensely now that they were almost painful. In a final desperate attempt to free himself, Sam pushed hard against the demon’s chest with his remaining strength. A bright light burst from his hands, blinding him. Father Rose screamed and let go of Sam’s throat, stumbling backwards as he burned. As the body fell to the floor with a crunch, Dean felt the force holding him disappear. He sat up and stared at Sam in complete shock.

“What was that?” Dean asked, standing up and picking up the angel blade. “What the hell did you do, Sammy?”

“I think... I think I killed it,” Sam mumbled, staring at the burned body in shock. He held up his hands, looking from them to the body and back again. The tingling was gone as if it had never been. “Side effect from the trials?”

“Maybe,” Dean shook his head and put the angel blade away. He walked over to the knife that had been knocked out of Sam’s hands and picked it up. Handing it to Sam, Dean shrugged. “That was different. Let’s hope Kevin found something in the tablets.”

“Yeah, we should probably get out of here,” Sam nodded, shoving the knife into the holster on his belt. “Those two people probably called the police.”

They hurried back out of the church, getting into the Impala and driving away. As they turned the corner, sirens announced the police showing up at the church. Sam heaved a quiet sigh of relief and let his head drop back against the headrest. After a quick trip to the motel to gather their stuff and check out, Dean got them back on the road. They kept their conversation confined to smaller topics and wondering what Abaddon might be up to. Neither mentioned Sam’s apparent new ability. Dean wanted to pretend that everything was getting better for just a little bit longer. They were almost back to the bunker when a quiet voice cleared her throat.

“Hope this isn’t a bad time,” Sarah said, smiling when Sam whipped around in his chair. Dean swerved, almost driving off the road before regaining control. “I have some news.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked curiously, hope threading through his voice. If they could deal with the angels first, Abaddon and the rest of the demons wouldn’t seem so difficult.

“Ash finally translated the spell and we managed to get what we needed from Metatron,” Sarah explained as Dean pulled up next to the bunker. “Naomi altered the spell to send me down here slightly, giving it a little more power than last time. I should be able to stay until the spell is finished.”

“What did you need to get from Metatron?” Dean asked curiously as they headed inside. Kevin and Cas were sitting at one table, the tablet and several sheets of paper spread out around them.

“We needed a piece of him,” Sarah explained, smiling at Cas and Kevin when they looked up. She settled into one of the wooden chairs, running her fingers over the grain of the wood again. Then she pulled out the bloody handkerchief and the paper Ash had given her. “We got his blood. Ash said the spell requires two more components: a piece of the angel whose grace Metatron took and a piece of a mortal who loves an angel. Hair would probably be easiest. Then, Naomi said Castiel has to read the spell. It has to be done on the next full moon which might be a problem. Angels haven’t really been on Earth in a very long time, other than during the last few years. Where are we going to find a human in love with one?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Sam said as Dean walked up behind Cas and put his hands on his shoulders. That’s the most Dean would allow himself to do, at least in the presence of the others. “Sarah, meet Castiel. The angel Dean’s in love with.”


	16. Supernova

“I thought you said he would never sense the extra power in the spell?” Pam yelled as they ran, dodging flashes of light that vaporized whatever they struck.

“I said it was a calculated risk!” Naomi screamed back, ducking her head as a ball of light exploded just above her. “I never expected Metatron to recover so quickly from the sigil. Had he still been dazed by it, he never would have known about the spell!”

“Can we assign blame later?” Ellen cut in, panting hard as she ran. “We need to worry about surviving now.”

“Where can we go now?” Bobby asked, breath wheezing as he kept up with Ellen. A lifetime of drinking had not kept him in the best shape. And, even up here in Heaven, Bobby pictured himself pretty much as he was on Earth. “My Heaven’s out and so are Ellen, Jo, and Ash’s.”

“I think I may have a place,” Naomi replied, only a little out of breath. While she had to stay in human form to make it harder for Metatron to track her, that didn’t mean she couldn’t draw upon angelic energy up here in Heaven. “Follow me.”

As another flash of light exploded above them like a supernova, Naomi veered off to the left and ran as fast as she could. Another patch of the Garden vaporized just off her right side, blank whiteness showing where a tree had been just a second before. This was her second miscalculation: Naomi had assumed Metatron wouldn’t damage the Garden itself in his pursuit of them. Clearly, revenge weighed more heavily on his mind than the damage he was inflicting to Heaven. Off the garden, in a tiny pocket that Naomi could only think that God forgot, she’d created her own little Heaven. It was a place she could go to be herself and hide from the other angels for a little while. After all, all of her minions knew exactly where her office was and could find her anytime they wanted. But no one other than possibly God and Naomi herself knew about her personal escape.

Navigating by the feel of her Heaven rather than by visual cues, Naomi managed to find the entrance. It was almost like a crack in the air and would disappear completely if you weren’t looking at it at the right angle. She slipped inside and waited, making sure all the others followed. Pam came first, disbelief turning to wonder as she saw what Naomi’s Heaven looked like. Ellen and Bobby were the next through and Ellen waited until Jo had made her way inside. Ash was the last and looked around curiously.

“It’s beautiful,” Jo said for all of them, staring upwards. The ceiling was a replica of the universe just after all the galaxies and nebulae had started forming. Bright colors mingled and swirled in the black, giving birth to pinpricks of light and beautiful masses of color. The walls were a liquid blue and vague shadows swam back and forth. Every once in a while, one of those shadows would clarify into a sea creature, alternately beautiful or scary or just plain weird. It was soothing and calming, a place Naomi could meditate in peace.

“Thank you,” Naomi replied, smiling as a megalodon appeared on the wall to her left. It eyeballed the group then swam slowly along the length of the wall before turning and fading back into a shadow. “I don’t think Metatron can find us here. No one has ever found this place.”

“Where are we exactly?” Ash asked curiously, laying a hand on one wall. It was solid and not at all wet. A lantern-fish appeared above his hand and tried to eat a finger and Ash laughed. “I thought I knew just about everywhere up here.”

“This is my personal Heaven,” Naomi explained, concentrating for a moment until a cushy-looking couch appeared. She settled on one end, drawing her legs up beneath her. “I made it a long time ago so I could escape my duties sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if my father left it here purposely, knowing I’d need it. Metatron shouldn’t be able to find us while we’re in here. No angel, or archangel for that matter, has ever found me when I didn’t want to be found.”

“Awesome,” Ash said approvingly, playing with the image of the lantern-fish by dragging his hand around the wall. The fish followed, darting after his fingers and trying to chomp on them. Finally, it got tired and swam away, fading into an indistinct shadow. “So all we need to do is wait for three days until Castiel says the spell.”

“Yes, that should be no problem,” Naomi nodded, causing a few more squishy couches to appear. The others sat down in them, finally catching their breath. “I’ve spent years in this place before. Three days is nothing compared to that. And I am sorry for your Heavens. The damage will take quite some time to repair. But, once the angels are returned home and Metatron is dealt with, you will have that time.”

The sound of explosions faded away slowly, moving further and further from the refuge they had claimed. It appeared Metatron was giving up on looking for them in this part of the Garden. So far, Naomi’s Heaven was working precisely as she said it would. The human souls relaxed and started talking, swapping stories and jokes just as they would have had they been back on Earth. Naomi listened quietly, letting her eyes roam the seascape and spacescape above their heads. Already, she was soothed and comforted, surrounded by the simple creations of her father.

\---------------------------------------------------

“You don’t have to word it quite like that,” Dean said uncomfortably, glaring at Sam.

“Why not when it’s true?” Cas asked, tilting his head back a little to smile up at Dean. “And when the feeling is returned?”

Sam laughed as Dean blushed slightly and shuffled his feet. Though he did look utterly pleased as Cas’s admission. Kevin and Sarah smiled too before Kevin went back to the passage he was trying to translate on the tablet. He’d finally reached the spell he thought Metatron had cast and it was interesting. At least it confirmed what Cas had said: the final piece was the grace of an angel who loved a human.

“So you need hair from the two of us?” Cas asked, turning the conversation away from his and Dean’s relationship to Dean’s relief. “That’s easy to come by. What’s the spell I need to say?”

“Here, Ash wrote it down,” Sarah handed the piece of paper over, keeping a hold on the bloody handkerchief. They’d risked a lot to get it and, while the plan had gone incredibly smoothly, Sarah wanted to protect it. That was probably the only chance they’d have and if they lost it, there would be no other chance to get a piece of Metatron. “The Enochian and the English translation underneath.”

“Send back what has been exiled to the home that was lost. Reverse the spell and grant the grace of God again,” Cas read from the paper, ignoring the Enochian for the moment. After the first few words, Kevin’s head whipped up and an excited grin crossed his face.

“Let me see that,” Kevin said, holding out his hand for the paper. Cas passed it to him and Kevin muttered to himself quietly, matching up the Enochian on the paper to Enochian on the tablet. Once he was finished, he nodded and passed the paper back. “If I’m reading this correctly, Ash translated the spell perfectly. And, once it’s completed, Cas should get his grace back. I think that’s what the last words mean. I _think_. I mean, it could mean the angels get their wings back since they lost those when Metatron cast them out.”

“Really?” Dean asked, a curious mingling of sadness and excitement curling in his chest. Things would be different if Cas was an angel again, wouldn’t they? He’d be the almighty soldier of God, pure and holy. And untouchable. “Is there any way to be sure? I mean, wouldn’t the spell Metatron cast have used up his grace?”

“Not from what I’m reading,” Kevin shook his head, pointing at some squiggly glyphs on the tablet. “According to this, the grace used needs to stay safe for the spell. Metatron’s probably keeping it somewhere. But, once the spell is reversed, so is everything else. The grace should return to its previous owner.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Sarah asked, completely oblivious to the war Dean was having internally. “You don’t want to be human anymore, do you Castiel?”

“There are some enjoyable parts to being human,” Cas replied thoughtfully, tiling his head slightly to one side. As he was focused on Sarah, he didn’t see the torrent of emotions in Dean’s eyes. “But I think I would like my grace back. Being an angel again doesn’t preclude the enjoyable parts of humanity and I can avoid the less savory parts. Like hygiene and waste.”

“Well, we’ve got another three days before the full moon,” Sam said. “Why don’t I settle Sarah into a room and we can hunker down here until it’s time to cast the spell? Metatron shouldn’t be able to find us here.”

“I don’t really need a room,” Sarah argued, shaking her head. “I’m just a ghost.”

“But you’re going to be here for three days,” Sam countered, holding out a hand for her to take. “You’ll probably be more comfortable if you have a room to yourself. Besides, even if you are a ghost, you’re solid down here. Effectively alive.”

Sarah thought it over and realized Sam had a point. She was sitting in the chair and not falling through it, stroking the wood rather than watching her fingers pass through the arms. She took Sam’s hand and allowed the hunter to draw her up. They headed down the hallway, passing a few open rooms. She looked in curiously, seeing spartan rooms with only a few personal touches here and there. Often, those personal touches were just photographs. Sam stopped outside a door that was closed and opened it with a flourish.

“Here we are,” he announced, letting Sarah walk in first. Footsteps behind them announced Dean and Cas walking down the hallway. Sarah peeked out and saw them walk into a bedroom a couple doors down from hers. The door closed and mumbled words filtered through the door. “It’s not much but you can call it home while you’re down here.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Sarah said, feeling tears sting her eyes. Suddenly, homesickness was crowding her chest, making it hard to breathe. Well, as much as she breathed as a ghost. “It will be fine. I think I’ll just relax for a while.”

Sam nodded and stepped out, recognizing that Sarah wanted to be left alone. He’d heard the catch in her voice and had a feeling she was thinking about her family. Being down here on Earth for an extended time and not being able to see them must be difficult. He closed the door quietly behind him and headed into his own room. It was going to be a long three days.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Three days later, a bright moon shone down on the bunker. Cas and Dean were standing near the Impala with a bowl in their hands. Inside, the bloody handkerchief rested on top of a couple of hairs from each of them. Cas had the spell in his hands, the moonlight enough for him to see the words even with his now-human eyesight. The former angel was practically vibrating with anticipation, thrilled that he might be able to _fix_ something for once. And get his grace back. Flying was something Cas missed intensely and also something he wanted to share with Dean. There were so many places Cas loved here on Earth that he wanted to take the hunter.

“So, is there a specific time this needs to happen?” Sam asked from the steps near the door he, Sarah, and Kevin had taken up residence on. It seemed to be a safe enough distance away and there was no way any of them were missing this. How often was a spell like this cast? “Or just whenever?”

“The tablet says under the light of the full moon,” Kevin shrugged, yawning. He’d been translating nonstop, only sleeping when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. “So it’s whenever Cas wants to say the spell, I guess.”

They looked back at the two standing near the Impala, wondering when Cas was going to get on with it and read the spell. After a few seconds, during which Cas and Dean exchanged glances, Cas started reading. The Enochian rolled out into the air in his deep voice, the words full of meaning and intent. It was surprisingly beautiful and everyone listening was entranced by it. When Cas started the words over again, small blue flames leaped up from the ingredients in the bowl. The words more deeper this time, more resonant, as if more than one voice was reading along. By the third read-through, Cas’s voice was booming and the flames were leaping up out of the bowl.

When he was finished, the flames in the bowl exploded outward like a supernova. The flash blinded everyone and knocked Dean and Cas to the ground. A howling wind sprang up accompanied by a high-pitched screeching. Dean recognized the noise as the voices of angels, magnified a hundred times as each screamed. As the aftereffects of the flames faded away, Dean could see thousands of lights hurtling into the sky. He laughed, wondering what the news would make of _this_ light show. Slowly, the lights tapered off until they completely disappeared. One light appeared, falling the other direction. It grew bigger and bigger until Dean thought it was going to fall directly onto them. Then, the light enveloped Cas and sank into his skin.

“Cas?” Dean asked quietly, stretching one hand out to the man. Cas groaned and shook his head, pushing himself back out of Dean’s reach.

“Don’t... don’t touch me yet,” Cas said through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing closed in pain. “Close your eyes, Dean. Close your eyes!”

Sam, Sarah, and Kevin closed their eyes and looked away as Cas screamed the last sentence, groaning at the intense light that burst from the angel. Dean waited until the light was excruciatingly painful then looked away, wiping at the tears streaming down his face. Cas screamed, human voice mingled with the same high-pitched screeching that they’d heard earlier. Suddenly, there was complete silence except for the ringing in all of their ears. Dean opened his eyes and looked for Cas immediately, sighing when he didn’t see the angel. Well, he didn’t really expect him to stay. Not after getting his wings back.

“Dean,” Cas said from behind him. Dean turned, staring in shock at the shadows of wings that stretched from Cas’s back. Instead of black shadow like the first time he’d seen them, Cas’s wings were outlined in silver light. An ecstatic smile tugged at Cas’s lips and he looked so happy that Dean couldn’t help but be happy for him. Even as it broke his heart that Cas was able to leave now.

“Looking good, Cas,” Dean joked, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. He could only hope that being flippant would hide the sadness. “Must be good to have your wings back, yeah?”

“It does,” Cas replied, shrugging his shoulders to work the muscles in his wings. There were a welcome weight on his back, even though it would take him a little time to get used to them again. “I missed being able to fly. I need to test them, make sure I still remember how to fly. Want to come with me?”

“Wh... what?” Dean stammered, completely thrown by the question. He’d honestly expected Cas to leave, to just disappear the way he’d done so many times before. That belief must have shown on his face because Cas stepped forward and folded him into a hug. “You want me to come with?”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replied, smile turning more to a smirk. “After all, there are places I want to show you. And there are things about being human that I’d like to explore.”

Dean couldn’t comprehend this quick enough. It felt like his mind was mired in a loop of “Cas is an angel again, he’s going to leave. Wait, Cas is staying?” and he couldn’t allow himself to hope. He just stared at the angel who held him, arms slack at his sides. Cas sighed, wanting to convince Dean that he was really staying. After all, this was his family now. Maybe there was one thing Cas could do. Cupping Dean’s face, Cas pulled him down into a kiss. There was nothing chaste to it this time and Cas put everything he’d learned while they were together earlier into it. He licked into Dean’s mouth eagerly, nipping at his bottom lip. Allowing Dean no time to breathe, Cas dominated the kiss and poured all his love and affection into the kiss. Breaking the kiss after several seconds, Cas studied Dean’s face and was satisfied with what he saw there: dawning belief and wonder. Without another word, Cas flew them both to the first place he wanted to visit: a small lagoon in Mexico where fruit trees grew on the bank and multicolored birds flitted from tree to tree.

“Well, I guess it worked,” Sam said dryly, staring at the place Dean and Cas had stood and shaking his head. He’d seen what Dean had been feeling, it was clear as day written across his brother’s face. It was nice to see that Cas wasn’t going to abandon him this time. It was time for something good for Dean. “Good to know we don’t have to worry about renegade angels anymore.”

“And I think it’s time for me to go home,” Sarah added, holding up a hand that was starting to fade. She gave Sam a sad look, trying to smile but failing. “It was nice to see you again, Sam. I enjoyed my time here. See you again, just not too soon, okay?”

“Bye, Sarah,” Sam said, pulling her into a hug before she faded completely. “Stay safe up there. And tell the others we said hi.”

Sarah nodded and wiped a tear away as she faded completely. Kevin and Sam were left alone on the steps, the moonlight still lighting the area. It was completely silent now, the world recovering from the spell Cas had cast. Without a word, they both turned and headed into the bunker. Cas knew where it was and there was no need to wait outside until they got back. Dean knew how to open the door. Sam nodded to Kevin and headed to his own room, tumbling down onto his bed. It was a weight off his shoulders, knowing that they’d helped fix what Metatron had done. And knowing they only had to worry about demons and Abaddon now. Naomi could deal with Metatron while he, Dean, Cas, and Kevin dealt with the monsters that go bump in the night here on Earth. It felt good to return to what was for them normal.


End file.
